No Ordinary Love
by Syrae
Summary: Sometimes, people enter our lives with a purpose. Callen finds that he may no longer have to be a 'tribe of one'.
1. Chapter 1

_So, I started this after I wrote_ Grisha _. Sometimes something just sticks with you, and this one has been pretty much writing itself. I'll try and update every Sunday, but I can't make any_ _promises. This takes of a few days after_ The Seventh Child, _and goes AU from there. Enjoy!_

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After the past couple of days, his couch held no appeal. He was restless. So, he'd gotten into his car and drove. He had been driving around for what felt for hours. Trying to find answers. Answers to questions he'd been asking for most of his life. Hoping to get rid of this feeling of isolation; of feeling out of place.

This thing with Nadir had shaken him; more so than he would ever willingly admit to anyone. To hear that he was someone to be trusted, to feel safe with, meant so much more. It meant that he turned out to be a better person than he had thought. Despite his less-than-conventional upbringing he had molded himself into this decent human being. Nadir's simple statement meant that he had accomplished something to be proud of.

He didn't really feel proud though. He felt alone. Sam had someone to go home to; someone to love. Kensi and Deeks had found each other, and Callen was secretly proud of them making it work. He had always considered himself a loner, a 'tribe of one'. But he felt wary. If he was completely honest with himself, he was tired of being alone. Joelle had been a wonderful distraction for as long as it lasted, and for a while he had fooled himself into thinking that they might actually make it work.

But it wasn't meant to be and he was alone yet again. He had never admitted it to Sam, but the reason he hated buying furniture for any of his places, was that he had no idea how to actually buy things that would make him feel at home. His current place was a reflection of the way he felt. It felt empty. _He_ felt empty.

Taking a deep breath, he decided he needed a break. Even his stomach was not so silently protesting to not having been fed yet. Sighing, he parked the car in front of a small café. It was full of people, and even though he'd never been here before it looked welcoming enough. He could at least watch people. Maybe it would occupy his mind.

When he pushed the door open, he was met with slightly familiar scent that he couldn't place. It made him feel strangely at home and welcome. Smelling food, he realized he was hungrier than he'd thought. He found an empty table in the far corner and sat down, studying the menu. It was not was he was used to. He lived on take out and fast food, and as far as he could tell, everything on the menu was at least healthy. Honest, homemade food. This would be new.

"What can I get you?"

The warm, pleasant voice shook him out of his thoughts and he looked up into a pair of hazel eyes. He blinked and shook his head. "Uhm… I'm not sure yet. Can you recommend anything?"

The waitress smiled. "Well, the beetroot soup is really great, made with products from the farmers market and served with homemade soda bread. But, if you're in the mood for a bigger meal, I can recommend the salmon. Brent brought it in this morning."

Her enthusiasm alone made the corners of his mouth pull up. "No, soup is fine." Sam would tease him endlessly if he ever found out he'd be eating something sort of healthy for dinner tonight.

"Coming right up." She winked and went back to the bar, chatting and laughing with other customers.

Callen leaned back in his chair and took a good look around. The place was decorated with calming colors; it made him feel as if he was sitting on the beach. Sand colored walls and blue accents made him take a deep breath and relax. There was something about the waitress that kept his attention. His eyes kept drifting over to where she was. Maybe it was her open friendly face, or her spontaneous smile. Wherever she seemed to go in the café, she was chatting with someone, always that smile on her face.

He didn't have to wait long for his order to come through. Both his soup and the bread were steaming.

"Be careful," she warned. "I took the bread out of the oven seconds ago."

"Thank you." He looked up at her and swallowed. There was something in her eyes that kept him looking, and he couldn't figure out what it was.

"More than welcome. Enjoy." Again, she smiled and turned around.

Carefully taking a spoonful of the soup, it suddenly hit him why it had smelled so familiar. He had a flashback to when he was really young. He was sitting in the kitchen with his mother and Amy, eating the same soup. The whole house smelled like it. Of course! His mother had made _borsjtsj_ , a typically Eastern-European soup served with sour cream. He just hadn't had in a million years.

He coughed, trying to swallow his bite without breaking down into an emotional mess. But this simple, wonderful soup brought back memories he thought he'd forgotten a long time ago. Within seconds, the waitress was back at his side, concern reflecting in her eyes. "Everything okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded through a haze of tears he didn't want to shed. "Yeah… I'm sorry, it's just…" Before he could stop himself, he rushed the words out. "My mother used to make this soup," he said. "And I haven't had it in years, or even thought about it or her for a long time too…" He cleared his throat. "Sorry, it was just a happy memory I was not really prepared for."

"Food does that sometimes," she acknowledged. "Food carries memories we sometimes forget. I have the same thing with coffee glazed cookies my grandmother used to make." She patted his arm. "I'm glad it was a happy memory."

For the first time since he'd left Nadir with his parents in the boat shed, a genuine smile reached his lips. "Me too."

She lingered for a few more seconds, making sure that he really was okay, before rising. "If there's anything I can do for you, let me know."

He nodded and she went back to other customers. With great caution, he tore the bread in pieces and dipped it in his soup; with every bite came a memory that he'd pushed to the back of his mind, maybe even hoping to actually forget. But with every spoonful, his mother became a clearer image, and his sister was laughing harder and he felt happier.

By the time his dinner was consumed, it had quieted down in the café. Callen was glad that he just had a quiet moment. He felt a bit drained, but sort of happy at the same time. He hadn't really thought of his family for a really long time, and there were still answers from his father he wanted to get, but for the time being he could wrap himself in the warm blanket the newfound memories provided.

When he went to the bar to pay, the waitress offered him a paper cup. "This one's on the house."

He eyed the cup wearily and she laughed. "It won't bite you, it is just tea."

"I don't drink tea," he murmured.

"I figured." She wasn't fazed. "This one, though, after the day you seem to have had, will do you a world of good. If not, come back tomorrow and I'll brew you something else."

Without complaining further he took the cup and sniffed. "What's in it?"

"Chamomile and lavender. It'll help you sleep tonight."

That would be a first. "All right. Thanks."

Again, that smile that seemed to be plastered to her face. It wasn't fake. It was real, and felt as if it was meant especially for him. "More than welcome. Have a good night."

He stepped out into the salty air again and walked back to his car, slowly sipping the herbal brew. It was gone before he even arrived back at his apartment. And somehow, whether it was the tea, or the sort of personal attention, or just the fact that he was slightly coming to terms with his new name, or the memories he was no longer afraid of, he slept soundly through the night for the first time in years.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews, guys! And you're right, Callen has a house, not an apartment. Don't know why I messed that up. There's the update I promised, a little later than planned, but it's here. Enjoy!

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It was only a few days later that he found himself back at the café. For a moment, he hesitated, not really sure what brought him back. Maybe it was the calming interior, or the fact that he wanted more of that soup that reminded him of his mother, or maybe he wanted to see that friendly face again. She'd been on his mind, for whatever reason the universe wasn't giving him.

So, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and opened the door. She was talking to a couple; stacked plates in her hands, and that smile that wouldn't leave him alone on her face. When she spotted him, he thought for a moment her smile grew bigger. Maybe it was only his imagination.

He sank down in the same spot he had the other day, and had only just picked up the menu when she appeared next to him. "Hi," she breathed.

Without trying, the corners of his lips pulled up. "Hi."

"Since you didn't come back the next day, can I assume the tea helped? At least a little?"

He shrugged, not committing to anything, surprised she remembered. "I'm not sure yet. I'm going to take another one home to see if it's the tea or if it was just pure exhaustion."

She chuckled. "I'll make sure you'll have one, then. What can I get you for dinner?"

He felt a little ill at ease asking about the soup. "Same soup as Tuesday?"

She wasn't judging. In fact, her gaze was compassionate and kind. "The beetroot? Of course. No soda bread today, though. We made sour dough."

Like he would really know the difference. "Sounds good."

Ten minutes later, he was again digging into the soup and hot bread with butter. Strange, how a simple dish like a bowl of soup could make him feel a little calmer. This time, he wasn't attacked by long forgotten memories; he could just sit there and enjoy his meal. She'd glance in his direction every now and then to make sure that he was okay, and it eased the ever-present knot in his stomach.

Again, he left with a large cup of herbal tea, and he slept better that night than the previous two. Over the course of the next few weeks, he began to frequent the café. Trying different things to eat, even having a salad that came recommended, and he found he liked. At some point he even started to go by for breakfast. She wouldn't serve him coffee though. He tried, really tried, but she wouldn't have it. For some reason, he found her stubbornness matching Hetty's when she really wasn't going to give him his way. It felt oddly calming and comforting, because when Hetty was strict with him, he knew it was because she cared. She seemed to care too, on some level.

"Seriously? No coffee?" He lifted one eyebrow in surprise and mock annoyance.

Handing him a cup, she shook her head. "No coffee. You finally have some color in your face, and you'll probably have some coffee at work, wherever that is, so you'll have tea here. Trust me, it's better."

To be honest, he had for some reason cut back on the caffeine, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He'd found this little teashop just a few blocks from his apartment, and he'd bought tealeaves, a travel mug and a tea strainer. Even when he wasn't eating at the café, he was having a cup of chamomile and or lavender tea before he'd go to sleep.

He gave up. "Fine. What kind of tea are you going to feed me this time?"

She smiled. "Rosehip. Let me know what you think."

And so it went on for a few weeks. He'd come in for breakfast or dinner, always leave with a cup of tea he most of the time liked, and be back to try something new and different.

Then, one morning, he showed up, asked her for a whole-wheat blueberry muffin and tea and she handed him a brown paper bag. He frowned at it. "What's this?"

"This is lunch." It was a simple enough statement, but she had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Lunch? You don't…"

She cut him off before he could finish his thought. "I know I don't, but you've been coming here for breakfast and or dinner for almost three weeks in a row now, so I figured I could at least help and give you something healthy for during the day, too."

He wasn't convinced, but okay. "Do I get to know what's in it, now?"

"No. Leave it closed till lunchtime, and then tell me tonight what you think. It's a new recipe and I could use an unbiased opinion."

"From me?" He still wasn't buying it.

She sighed, handing him his travel mug. "Well, Lindy is my right hand, and we do all our recipes together, but sometimes we think something works and maybe it really doesn't. I wanted to try something new without her knowing, and since you've become a regular, I figured you can help me out."

It seemed innocent enough. She looked up at him with her big, pleading eyes, and he knew he lost the battle. "All right. But I can be really honest about this?"

"Brutally honest."

"Okay." He picked up the bag and his mug and winked at her. "Thank you."

"Thank you for being my guinea pig."

He was almost out the door when he thought of something. He went back to the bar, not wanting to shout it through the room. "Hold on. If you want me as your guinea pig, can I at least know who's trying this on me?"

For a moment, she looked surprised. Then she laughed. "We haven't even really introduced ourselves, have we?"

"We haven't."

She offered him her hand. "Deja Barrow."

"Deja as in déjà vu?"

She nodded. "Yeah, as in déjà vu. It's way too complicated for most Americans, but at least they try."

"You're not American?"

"Half Spanish, half English. I grew up here, though."

That explained the slight, almost undetectable accent she had. He hesitated with his own name for a slight second. Then again, he needed to introduce himself with his real name at some point. Might as well be now. "Grisha Callen." He swallowed the _people call me G_ part.

"Grisha is not American either.

"It's Russian. Like you, I grew up here."

Deja nodded. "Well, Grisha, it's nice to finally _really_ meet you." The name rolled of her tongue easily.

"Likewise, Deja," he agreed. Then nodded and held up his bag. "I'll let you know tonight."

He turned around and really walked out the door this time. Deja watched him go and wondered what was different about him from all the other guys she ever met. He had looked lost and ill at ease when he'd first come to the café, and there were days where she still felt something was off with him. There was a part of her that wondered about his story; there was a story there, no doubt about it. Maybe in time. For now she'd just spoil him the best way she knew how; with food and personal attention.


	3. Chapter 3

Because I won't be able to post anything in the coming two days (it's my grandparents 57th anniversary weekend) I'm updating now! Thanks for all the follows and reviews guys, they mean the world! :-)

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And so it went on for a few more weeks. He would come in for breakfast and tea, leave with something she wanted him to try for lunch and return for dinner. He met Lindy and Jess, Deja's friend and business partner and the waitress they hired to help out. He'd always sit at 'his' table, knowing both Deja and Lindy set it especially for him.

Today was Saturday, and he had skipped both breakfast and lunch at the café, having done some chores. Doing laundry and vacuuming were not on his favorite to-do list, but he was almost out of fresh clothes and he could actually see the dust gathering around the house, which didn't leave him with a choice.

Late in the afternoon, he found himself on route to his new favorite place when he heard Deja's voice coming from the other end of the street. She sounded slightly stressed, not in a panic, but not completely comfortable either.

Callen slowed down, checking for signs she was in trouble, and finding none, went in the direction of her voice. He found her and Lindy outside, talking to each other.

"Everything okay?" he asked when he was only a few steps away.

They looked up. Deja notably, seemed relieved. "You just missed them," Lindy said.

"Missed who?"

"Some customers who wanted more than what they were paying for."

She seemed uncomfortable as Lindy told him what just happened. "I'm not a damsel in distress that needs rescuing," she protested.

"I know." He'd seen her dodge customers that wanted more than just her food. She could stand her ground. "You want to tell me who they were?"

"Just some friends of a guy I used to date. Well, that's an exaggeration. We went on a total of two dates before I decided I was done. Not my type."

Callen silently wondered what her type would be. Blond hair, blue eyes, a surfer? Tall, dark and handsome? He'd presumably never have a chance with her. Even though he didn't know where the thought came from, he wanted to know what it would be like to date her. Get to know her better than he did now.

"So what were they doing here?"

She shook her head, wiping a few loose strands out of her face. "They didn't mean it the way it sounded," she defended them. "It's just… They wanted more of Lindy and me than we were willing to give. And I'm not going to give in because someone's pressuring me, you know?"

"You shouldn't have to feel pressured to begin with," Callen told her.

"Maybe not," Deja agreed. "Tell me that the next time anyone asks me out, all right?"

He nodded, scanning the area to make sure they were really gone. Deja locked her eyes on his face. "What are you looking for? Sometimes I catch you looking around here as if you're looking for some threat that I don't know of."

She had no idea how close to the truth she actually was. He could never let his guard down; not willingly at least. It was both part of the job as it was part of him. He would always be on the lookout for things that were out of the ordinary. It was what he was trained for. But he couldn't tell her that. So he told her something else that was true, instead.

"No, no threat. It's just force of habit. Grisha means 'watchful', so maybe that's it. My parents must've known it when they named me."

There was something he wasn't telling her, Deja could feel it. Maybe he never would, but she'd take his explanation at face value for now. Maybe he'd ever trust her enough to share. And if not, that should be fine too. Then why did she feel somewhat disappointed?


	4. Chapter 4

Again, thanks for the follows, everyone! This part is way longer than part 3. I couldn't seem to stop. ;-) Enjoy!

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Another Saturday that he found himself on route to his favorite café. He was early, but he had the whole day, not sure what to do with himself. And he just couldn't stay away.

Deja bumped into him when he entered and grinned. A glance at the clock revealed that he was late for breakfast and early for lunch. "Are we brunching now, Grisha?"

It still surprised him how easily his name rolled of her tongue. It made it so much easier to get used to. He shrugged and shook his head. "I've had breakfast. I could do with tea or something."

"Of course you could." She looked over to Jess, opened her mouth to say something then changed her mind. "Actually, I have a proposal."

"That sounds intriguing."

"I'm on my way to the farmer's market right now. Why don't you join me? I'll treat you to the best ice cream you've ever had."

How was he going to refuse? "Seriously?" Spending time with her outside of the café was not something he'd expected to do anytime soon. Especially not since _she_ was the one suggesting it.

Deja rolled her eyes at him. "Seriously. What do you say? You'll have to do some heavy lifting for me, though. Just warning you up front so you can back out."

He didn't want to back out. "All right. That better be some amazing ice cream."

"It will be," she assured him. Turning to Jess, she said: "Grisha is going with me to the market. Are you and Lindy going to be okay for the lunch crowd?" For a moment, she seemed hesitant about leaving them.

Jess nodded and almost shooed them out the door. "Go. Have fun. Nothing we can't handle."

And so Callen found himself on his way to the farmer's market for the first time in his life. He was actually fascinated by everything he saw. Deja explained about ingredients he never even heard about, he saw her interact with farmers about prices and quality and he found that she captivated him. She made him try new things. "Here," she said, handing him half a passion fruit. "How's that?"

Callen took a bite, and was surprised. "That is actually… fascinatingly tangy."

Smiling, she turned back to the farmer. "Can you bring two cases to Lindy? I think we're going to have passion fruit cheesecake at the café this week."

Halfway through the market, he had to ask. "You ever get tired talking about food?"

She looked up from selecting lettuce and seemed to weigh her words. "The short and simple answer is no."

"And the long and complicated answer?" he probed.

"It would still be no. I love food. I love the process of cooking food that's honest and homemade, I love talking to the farmers about what they recommend I do with what I buy. I think it's important to know where your food comes from, because you feed and nurture yourself with it. Food is too important to stop talking about, you know? Besides, is there a better way to pass the time with eating, or talking about food?"

He had never thought about it that way. Eating was a way of surviving, not necessarily something to enjoy and take time for. Maybe he'd have to adjust his opinion about food. Everything he'd had so far, made by both Deja and Lindy, he'd enjoyed. He felt better, even when he would never admit that to anyone out loud.

"Wasn't food a thing in your family?" Deja asked, as they strolled on.

Nobody had ever asked him that. How much could he possibly reveal to her about his past? How much did he _want_ to share with her? "Not really. The earliest memories I have are with my mother and sister at the beach and around the kitchen table. But my mother died when I was little, and my sister and I got split up into different foster homes and families, so there was never a real family to enjoy food with."

"I'm sorry."

Callen shrugged. He'd learned to deal with most of it. Deja looked at him with that same compassionate and kind look he remembered from their second meeting. "Don't be. I'm all right."

She halted. "Is that why you had such an emotional reaction to the _borsjstj_? You said something about it remembering you of your mother…"

Callen stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He could barely look at her. "Yeah… Well, like I said. It was years since I had proper _borsjstj_ , and just the smell and taste made that the few memories I have of my mother came flooding back."

Deja didn't respond, and when Callen finally looked up at her, she looked guilty. He shrugged. "You don't have to look so guilty, Dee," he said, the nickname coming out as if he always used it. "I should be thanking you, in fact. I remembered things that I thought I'd forgotten a long time ago. And I remembered how great my mother was, what she looked like." He cleared his throat. "I spent half my life being afraid of those memories, but I'm not anymore. The whole thing learned that I should treasure them."

He was unprepared for the hug she gave him. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. For a moment, Callen hesitated, physical contact not being one of his strong points. But as she held on, he wrapped his arms around her, savoring the contact. Eventually, she stepped back, not saying anything for a while. "You should," she said. "You should treasure all the memories you have. They're so important."

This conversation needed to get back to safer ground. "You have important memories?"

"They all are. Most of them are from our holidays in Spain, with my mother's family, sitting at a large table, eating, drinking, laughing. In our family, food equals quality time and quality time equals food." She gestured around her. "Maybe that's one of the reasons food is so important to me, as well."

He could imagine that. He had never been part of a family like that, and maybe he would never be. It had been the perfect picture of a family when he was a kid. Sitting around the table, laughing about nothing. Just being together. He saw it when he had dinner with the whole team, and it made him feel like he at least belonged _somewhere._

Deja, sensing that she hit a nerve, shifted the conversation back to food and ingredients. She told him about her dream of doing something with food, of how she met Lindy in college and the things they'd done before opening the café. "Sometimes I still have to pinch myself when I look around our place. I'm secretly very proud of us."

"You can be openly proud, you know. You've accomplished something really great. I'm starting to recognize faces of people that come by often, like me. Returning customers are a good thing."

Handing him the basket she'd brought, Deja shook her head at him. "You're an exception. I should ask you to join me for dinner upstairs next time; I'm almost feeling sorry for all the money we're costing you."

He shrugged. "I should've learned how to cook, then we wouldn't have that problem. And upstairs?"

His question didn't even reach her ears. "You don't know how to cook?"

"Dee, I just told you that I spent my childhood going from foster home to foster home. And it's not like my job leaves me time for taking courses."

Deja cocked her head to the side. "What is it that you do anyway?"

"Government job." The cut and dry answer.

She caught on. "Ah. So not something you can share."

"Nope."

"But you've never learned to cook," she went back to the original topic of conversation.

"I haven't."

"Don't you think it's time to learn? Or are you afraid that you might discover a hidden talent?"

That made him laugh out loud. "I've got many talents, Dee, but I'm fairly sure cooking isn't one of them."

"We'll see." They'd reached the end of the market, and judging by the overloaded basket Callen was carrying, Deja had everything she needed. "Are you still okay carrying that thing? It must be heavy."

"It's all right. Where is that ice cream you promised, though?"

"Oh, your ice cream! Of course! So sorry, Grisha. This way!" Without thinking, she took his hand and dragged him along. Callen couldn't say he minded.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys, an update on Saturday, because I'm out tomorrow and won't have time to post. Thanks for all the follows and reviews, they make my day. And if you have an idea for something you'd like to see, drop me a line, maybe I can work it in. ;-)

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"Okay, seriously, G, I've gotta ask." Sam looked at his partner in surprise and disbelief. "This is the fifth week in a row you come in here with a prepped lunch. One that is healthy and you actually seem to like. What the hell have you done with my partner?"

Callen shrugged as he put the note Deja had attached to it, into the place he kept all the others. A small wooden box in his top desk drawer. _Enjoy your tuna sandwich. You want to try something new tonight? Kiss, Dee._ Then he looked at Sam. "What? I finally start paying attention to my health, and now you start bugging me about that, instead of me _not_ paying attention to my health?"

Sam put his hands up in surrender. "No bugging. It's just very, very suspicious. What made you change your mind? Some lady we haven't heard about?"

Being a trained undercover agent was a good thing, now. Callen gave Sam a neutral look, unfazed by the line of questioning. "Like I have time to actually meet someone. If I'm not catching bad guys, I'm babysitting you."

Deeks started to laugh, until Sam threw him a look that could kill. "You mean when I'm not babysitting _you_. Really, what's gotten into you?"

Again, he shook it off, polishing of the last bite of his sandwich. "Just figured that I should finally take your advice and start eating a little healthier. My body is my temple and all that. It's just to get you off my back."

Not that that would actually work, but he could try. He did feel better, eating wholesome meals and taking it easy on the coffee. There were things even Sam didn't need to know, and Deja and his new eating habits were one of them. He'd protect that part of him even if it killed him. Especially Deja.

Thankfully, Sam's comeback got interrupted by Eric's whistle. A new lead on the case they were currently working on. So he pushed his chair back from his desk and followed Eric up the stairs.

"I _will_ find out, G," Sam muttered.

He didn't expect anything else. "I know." But for now, it could be his secret.

In fact, he never made it to Deja that night. The next morning, when he arrived for breakfast, he shot her an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry about last night, Dee," he said.

She seemed more relieved than angry to see him. "Just glad to see that you're okay. Long day?"

"Didn't get home until after midnight. Hate that I missed out on dinner." He handed her his travel mug. "And can I get a decent coffee? Not for me, for a co-worker.

"Of course." She turned around to the coffee machine and busied herself. "Grisha, tell me if I'm overstepping bounds here, but is there someone watching your back?"

Maybe she was overstepping bounds, but if she was, he couldn't tell. He wanted to reassure her about what it was he did, but he couldn't openly tell her. "I have a partner," he answered.

It was all she wanted to know. "Good." Deja wasn't sure why she wanted to know if he was protected out there. She didn't know what he did, just wanted to know that he would be safe doing it. Why she worried, she didn't know. Just a feeling. A feeling she wasn't really ready to define. "About missing dinner last night, it just means it'll be your lunch today."

Called looked up, not expecting that. "Why?"

"I hate to waste perfectly good food. And we'll have something else on the menu tonight." Instead of a paper bag, she took an airtight container out of the small fridge beneath the bar and handed it to him. With it, she gave him a business card. "Next time you're late or not coming altogether, let me know, okay? My cell number is on the back."

Locking eyes with her, he smiled. She actually worried when he didn't show up without a reason. "A text all right? I probably won't have time to call."

She nodded as she handed him a cup. "Yeah, a text is fine."

"I'll let you know. I'm hoping today will be paperwork." He winked at her. "Thank you, again."

Deja smiled at him. "More than welcome. See you soon."

When he reached Sam, he handed his partner the cup. Sam gave him a surprised look. "What's this?"

"Probably the best coffee you've ever had."

"Seriously?" Cautiously taking a sip, Sam found that it was, indeed, a great cup of coffee. "Where'd you get it?"

"A new place." Pulling out of the parking space, he turned towards OSP. "And what's the deal with you carpooling with me? You sure you want me to drive you around all day?"

Sam huffed. "Not by choice. After that chase yesterday, it's back to the garage. _Again_. Another set of tires."

Callen grinned and shook his head. "This is just way too convenient for you. You just want to snoop around in here, hoping to find clues about the new and improved me."

"Maybe. I'm just looking out for my partner, G, somebody has to."

Callen pulled up in the parking lot. "I am a grown man, you know. I can look after myself."

"I know," Sam admitted. "That's not it. You just seem… different… Something about you is off."

"By your standards or mine?" Callen put his travel mug on his desk and walked over to the tiny kitchen area to put his lunch in the fridge.

"Come on, G." Sam sounded almost exasperated. "You've got to admit… You eating something remotely homemade and healthy is just like Kensi going off Twinkies…"

"Did I hear my name?" Kensi dropped her bag on her desk and threw Sam a challenging look. "And can you get off my back about the Twinkies? After seven years? We're still going on about that?"

Callen shrugged at her back, then looked back at his partner. "Look, I know this might be hard for you to understand, but I'm not getting any younger. And I've done some research, and eating a bit healthier might actually be a good thing for me. So can we just get back to the normal things we always talk about, instead of interrogating me about the changes in my lifestyle?"

"There's more than one change?" Deeks arched an eyebrow as he dropped himself into his chair. "It's not just the eating healthier?"

He walked right into that. Instead of responding, he booted up his laptop and opened a file, hoping that Eric or Nell would call with a case and he'd get out of this line of questioning. No such luck today, unfortunately.

"You haven't noticed it?" Kensi asked as she sat down next to him. "What kind of agents are you?"

"I'm still not technically an agent," Deeks quipped, but Kensi ignored him, knowing he'd _finally_ handed in his papers with Hetty two weeks before.

Sam looked at her, confused. "Noticed what?"

"Have you found him on the couch, or in the office or the boatshed altogether, for the past few weeks? He's not been sleeping here. He's not even really in here before we all are."

Yeah, he should've seen that coming. There had been times when he hadn't technically left the office. He'd just crash for those precious couple of hours on a couch in the back of the office or the boat shed. But he'd finally bought himself a real bed a while ago. Not just a mattress, but a real, proper bed. And to be completely honest, he actually liked it.

He didn't look up from his laptop screen as he felt both Sam and Deeks' gaze on him. He knew Kensi was a good agent because she was so observant, but he should've known better. He could've pretended.

"I'll be damned," Sam muttered under his breath. "She's right. You haven't slept in here for weeks. See that I was right? He's met someone. Who is she? Do we know her?"

Of course Deeks was just as excited. "Really? He's met someone? When? How?"

And finally, that liberating whistle. He couldn't get out his chair fast enough. Not that that would really stop the team from questioning him. He'd just learned that he'd have to tread more carefully from now on. He wasn't going to let them know about Deja just yet.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi everyone, as promised, a new chapter! Let me know what you think!

* * *

"… three cases of those, and two of the mushrooms."

He was late for their weekly trip to the farmers' market. A case had kept them longer than expected, and he had actually been able to call her and tell her that he'd meet her there.  
Callen couldn't get enough of her. No matter how he tried, when he was not with her, he was thinking about her, wishing she were with him. Not being used to this feeling, he was trying to keep it a bit at bay. Eventually, he was going to have to admit to himself that he was falling in love with her. Everything she was and did, from her big, hazel eyes, to her easy smile and her spontaneity, care and generosity, fascinated him. So, he was taking his time, observing her from a distance. She was making small talk with Artie, one of the farmers, pushing that lock of hair out of her face that was always in the way.

By the time he reached her, she was laughing about something Artie had said. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She looked up, her eyes shining with happiness at seeing him. "There you are. I was wondering how much longer you were going to take."

"I'm here." Reaching for her basket, he winked at Artie. "You kept her entertained?"

Artie grinned at the two of them. It wasn't the first time he saw them together, and, judging by the looks of it, it wouldn't be the last time. There was complacency, a belonging, around them that they hadn't figured out yet, but Artie could. He'd been around long enough to read people, and what he saw with them was going to take them a long way if they were going to take care of it. "I tried. But I'm sure she's happy that you're here."

Leaving Artie behind, they turned and went in search for all the other things Deja needed. They hadn't made it to the next stall yet, before Deja started to talk. "Did you start early this morning?"

Callen shook his head. "It was a few loose ends we needed to tie together, but it took longer than expected, because Sam kept stalling for some reason."

"Sam?"

Right, he hadn't mentioned names. "My partner."

"Ah." Deja stopped to look at some produce. "Alright. I was glad you could call, by the way."

He could swear she was actually blushing. "Me, too, to be honest. Way better than a text."

"Agreed." For only a moment, she locked eyes with him, then turned back to her shopping.

Their trip took up the same time it always did, with feeling and smelling, Deja discussing prices and qualities and having him taste right along with her. Secretly, he enjoyed these afternoons with her far more than he would've thought in the beginning. It was his tenth week, and he'd remembered names of farmers other than Artie, and they were recognizing him as well. It was relaxing, and mundane and domestic and he was looking more forward to it every week.

As they reached the end of the market, he turned to her. "Ice cream?"

"Actually, I'm in the mood for coffee," Deja confessed.

If his head had spun any faster, he'd given himself a whiplash. "I'm sorry?"

Taking his arm, she pulled him along. "I do drink coffee, you know. Every once in a million years, I crave a cup of coffee, the way my grandmother used to make it."

"The Spanish of the British one?"

"The British one."

He lifted an eyebrow. "And here I was thinking the English only drink tea."

"They do," she said. "But my grandmother was part Italian, and you know how Italians like their coffee."

That he did. "Strong and very little of it."

"Exactly." Deja took him to a small coffee shop around the corner of the market. He settled for tea and a piece of chocolate cake, while Deja opted for a double espresso. Five minutes later they were sitting at a table by the window, silently enjoying their beverages.

"How does a half Italian, half British grandmother fit into your family?" Callen asked, digging into his cake.

Deja rested her head on her hand and traced the rim of her tiny cup with the other. "She's my father's mother. Something about a young Italian girl coming to London for work in the late 1920's and falling in love with a real, proper British boy. From all the stories Nanna told me, they were madly in love and had her and her four brothers to prove it."

"Is she still alive?"

"You know the English; tough as nails. She'll be eighty-three in August."

"And your Spanish grandmother?"

"Still alive as well. She lives in Spain, although my mother keeps telling her to come and live with them in London. But I think that she loves her own space and having my uncles close by and everything. I can't blame her." She looked at him. "What about you? Do you have any family left?"

Of course he should've anticipated that question. And with any other person, he would've found a way around it. But with her, honestly seemed to be his only option. "Well, my mother and sister passed away, both a long time ago as you know, and I only figured out who and where my father was a few months ago. He lives in Russia, so it's not like I can jump in the car and go visit him, unfortunately." Part of him wished he could. There were still answers he wanted to get from his father; answers to questions he had been asking himself all his life.

"No uncles, no aunts? Cousins?"

He shook his head. There was a reason he'd been called a 'Tribe of one'. No family. "No, only me and my father."

Her eyes filled with empathy, but she didn't linger over it. "You should come and see my family, then, next time they're all here. You won't know what hit you."

They talked about her aunts and uncles, her parents who lived in London and came to visit once a year, the fact that she was an only child and had actually loved it. Then was his turn to talk about his upbringing; the foster homes, the things he'd done to get in trouble and how he finally got out of it.

By the time Deja finally looked at the clock, it was way later than she'd anticipated. "Grisha! We need to go!"

Callen quickly followed her out to her car, wondering how it was that time seemed to slip away from them every time they were together. Maybe it was a good thing.


	7. Chapter 7

And another update, right on time. ;-)

* * *

Coming back from an extremely long case, Callen finally dropped in after three weeks. He'd kept her up to date, sort of, about how he wouldn't be in for a while, because he couldn't say how long this case was going to keep him occupied. Having wrapped it two days earlier, and rushing through his rapport, he took a car straight from the airport to the café. Thankfully, Hetty had given them the next two days off, so he didn't have to get back to the office until after the weekend.

Her face lit up when she saw him. "Grisha!"

Taking the few strides to where she was standing, he wrapped her in his arms for a short, tight hug. "Hey, Dee."

"Hi," she breathed, hugging him back. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm alright."

Deja searched his eyes. He looked tired, but seemed to be in one piece. "Adrenaline and coffee, right?"

"There was no herbal tea available where I was," he said.

"I'm not asking. You want anything?"

"A few hours of sleep." He was yawning thinking about it. "But tea would be lovely, too."

Sam, and especially Deeks had teased him endlessly during the past weeks. They had finally found out that he was not drinking coffee anymore, and there was no Deja or Deja's tea in the middle of the Sahara. So he made due with coffee that tasted like stale water, and lived on whatever chow they were offering. But he was so ready for a home cooked meal.

Deja rounded the bar and busied herself with his tea. "You want some eggs and toast? Or did you already have breakfast?"

He shook his head. "No, no breakfast. Eggs would be great."

She put the order through to the kitchen and told Jess that she was going to sit with him for a moment. "Come on, let's take your table."

His table. It didn't feel like his, but at least there was something here that reminded them of him, for which he felt grateful. It was nice to know there was someone thinking of him while he was away.

"How are things here?"

She smiled. "Everything is fine. It's been busy." She stirred in her own cup. "We decided to close one evening during the week, to catch up on paperwork and have an evening to breathe."

"What am I going to do for dinner on that day?" It was out of his mouth before he realized it.

Deja laughed. "See, your first reaction is not: great Dee, must be nice to have an extra night off. No, you are worried about you." She shoved his shoulder. "We can finally start those cooking lessons we've been talking about."

Callen swallowed his sip, trying to disguise the fact that he was actually excited about that idea. And not for the cooking, but for the fact that he could spend more time with her. "Are you sure? I can totally understand if the extra night off is extremely appealing. You don't have to spend it with me."

That argument was easily rebuffed. "I want to."

Okay. He wanted to, as well. He was actually excited to try and do something new. He'd have to warn her though. "I might not be able to get there every week."

"I know," Deja answered. "We'll see how the day goes, and you can always text me if you're not going to make it. Plenty of ingredients in the pantry, so we can always whip up something super simple."

Her eyes were dancing, and she mesmerized him once again. He'd never had this with anyone before, and the feeling was new and different and one he liked. "All right. It's a date."

"Good."

Jess came to bring his eggs, winked at Deja and returned to tend to other customers. Callen took a bite of his breakfast and closed his eyes, savoring the flavors and the fact that he was, in fact, eating real eggs.

Deja looked at him. She truly liked him. There was something in his eyes that had drawn her in, and that was, for some reason, not letting her go. She'd found that she'd missed his company. She was so used to seeing him every day that suddenly not seeing him for a while, made her all jittery. He'd kept her up-to-date whenever he could, and she was getting used to him having an erratic schedule. But him not being there for twenty-five days was not something she was used to anymore, and she found that she'd missed his presence.

Callen lifted his eyes to meet hers. He could read it. "I can't tell you anything, Dee," he said. "Only that everything went well and that I'm back in one piece, as you can see. And that I've missed you." He was going to say that he'd missed this: the food, the atmosphere, the fact that he could walk in and be himself. He hadn't planned on saying that he'd missed _her_ , specifically.

She took his hand and squeezed it. "I've missed you, too."

His face broke out in a grin. "Yeah?"

Again, she jabbed his shoulder. "I've gotten used to you going with me to the farmers market, and getting in here every day. So, when your crazy schedule takes you away for three whole weeks, of course I miss you. Even if it's just because I have to carry my own groceries." But it was more than that, and they both knew it.

Callen started yawning once his breakfast was gone. Deja patted his hand. "You should get some sleep."

He agreed, but didn't want to move. "I should. Not sure if I'm able to drive in this condition, though."

"Take a cab, leave the car here, come back tonight to pick it up." She was tempted to offer him her own bed upstairs, but that was probably not a good idea. Not yet, anyway.

"What's on the menu tonight?"

"Something Italian that Lindy decided on. I honestly haven't looked at it yet. I don't have to worry about it, anyway."

"You off tonight?"

She nodded. "We have a new girl around now. Her name's Keira, she's a college student, fun, hard-working girl. So yeah, I have a night off."

"All right." Again, he yawned as Deja called him a cab. "Sorry to cut this short. We wrapped everything up and came in with the red eye and since I barely sleep on planes, it's been almost 60 hours without sleep."

Deja understood. "Don't worry about it. Get some sleep, I'll see you tonight."

When his cab arrived, he hugged her again and kissed her cheek. "See you tonight."

"Be careful. Sweet dreams."

As Callen fought to keep his eyes open during the cab ride, he tried not to revel in the fact that she fit perfectly under his chin. The fact that she'd missed him was good. It was more than he could've hoped for. He better not screw this up.


	8. Chapter 8

It's date night! :-)

* * *

He arrived back at the café around 7. After around five hours of sleep he felt better. He'd even thrown his go-bag in the laundry, showered and dressed. Deja was nowhere in sight when he entered.

Jess grinned up at him. "Well, look at you, all dressed up and everything. You going to take her someplace nice?"

He had thought about it, but where to take a café owner who knew everything about food? Seeing that she was not around yet, he confided in Jess. "Honestly, I wouldn't know where to take her. Where do you take someone who knows _everything_ about food?"

Jess laughed. "Yeah, it's tricky. I'll tell you what, don't mention that I've told you but her favorite place is up the beach here. They have great seafood, cozy vibe, gorgeous view over the water. We have a friend working there, I'll call and get you set up." She winked. "Thank me later."

The reality of it all struck him when Deja finally made an appearance. She was wearing a striped dress and a denim jacket, her hair in a braid. This was a date. For all intents and purposes, this was a date.

Her face broke out in a grin when she saw him. "Well, look at you. This is different from the jeans I usually see you in."

Callen looked down at his dark slacks and blue button down. He'd sort of made an effort. It wasn't completely casual but not very dressed up either. He shrugged, kissed her cheek. "I figured I could at least try and look presentable. You, on the other hand, look gorgeous."

Deja actually blushed. "Uhuh, of course I do." She turned to Jess. "I have my key, so if we're not back before you close, I'll take the official front door."

Jess waved them off, giving Callen thumbs up behind Deja's back. Now he actually wanted to know where she lived. "What official front door?"

She looked at him, wiping some hair out of her face. "Oh, you don't know that. My apartment is above the café. I usually take the stairs down, but I do have a separate front door."

Ah, so that was what she meant when she was talking about upstairs. Right. "That makes sense."

Deja frowned, not sure what he meant. "How's that?"

"You've mentioned 'upstairs', I never got what you meant by it. Now it totally makes sense if you live over the café." He casually steered her in the direction Jess had detailed out for him. Other than his occasional fish tacos, he was not all that familiar with seafood, but anything for Dee.

"It came with the lease, and Lindy was already living with her boyfriend, so I took it. Best commute time ever."

Their stroll was leisurely, and he had to refrain from taking her hand on more than one occasion. He had never been great with relationships, and since he was not intentionally going to screw this up, he wanted to take his time and see where this was going. No need to rush things, no matter how much he wanted to, on some level.

"Now, on the very important note: what's for dinner?" Deja had a very good idea, seeing her favorite place in the not so distance, but she had to ask anyway.

Callen laughed. "With all that talk about food, and being surrounded by food the entire day, you still have an appetite? How do you maintain that figure?"

"Moderation. Eating is all about moderation." She beamed at him. "And yes, I can always eat."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay. Well, I heard about this place with great seafood, cozy vibe, wonderful ocean view… You up for that?"

"Always."

Jess had arranged that they had a table in a dimly lit corner. Callen let Deja order, knowing that he could leave her to it and enjoy his meal. They talked about everything and nothing, and before both of them knew it, they were the last two people in the restaurant.

Deja took the last sip of her wine. "What time is it?"

Callen was surprised that they hadn't thrown them out when he looked at his watch. "Almost midnight."

"Already?"

"Already." He hadn't had this much fun for a long time. "How about we get the check, and see if he's willing to give us a bottle of wine and two glasses, with the promise to return them tomorrow? The glasses, I mean."

She had the early shift tomorrow, but at the moment, Deja could care less. "Brilliant idea."

Harry shook his head at their request, but indulged them anyway, glad that he could close the place and head home. Ten minutes later, they were sitting on the beach, watching the ocean and still talking. Deja took a deep breath and turned her head to him. "Jess told you that this is my favorite place to eat, right? There's no way you guessed it out of nowhere."

He couldn't lie to her and nodded. "Yeah, she pointed me in the right direction. How am I to know where to take you otherwise?"

"You're not."

"Exactly. With you knowing _everything_ about food, and me knowing almost _nothing_ , that would be an impossible task without help."

"You did good."

The wine finished around two in the morning, they strolled back to the café, laughing, chatting. Callen looked up at the façade. "Why _Indulge_?" he asked, pointing to the sign.

Deja followed his gaze. "Because it means to treat yourself, or someone else, to something. To spoil, nourish, pamper. It's everything we stand for in one word." She stopped in front of the door, fumbling with her key. "We used to tell a friend in college to indulge, whenever we'd made something and she wouldn't eat it. She was a dancer, always counting calories. We'd tell her to forget about the calories and enjoy herself. The 'indulge' part of it stuck, so when we opened the café, we decided on that."

"It's perfect."

"It is, isn't it?" She was glowing. "I still think it is. It feels perfect on so many levels, I can't even tell you."

She didn't have to, Callen could tell looking at her. Not for the first time that night, he couldn't look away. The way her eyes danced when she was talking about something she loved, the way she laughed… He couldn't remember ever knowing someone who had this love for life. The fact that Deja carried herself with confidence, because she was comfortable in her own skin, and with whom she was, made her even more attractive than she already was. And the best part about it was that she didn't even realize it.

Before he fully registered what he was doing, he'd pulled her against him and hesitated long enough to recognize he was going to kiss her. But then his lips found hers and the world vanished.

Glasses weren't going to be returned in the morning and sleep, for all the right reasons, wouldn't come tonight.

* * *

Guys, you still think I'm going in the right direction with this?


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! Good to know you still like this. ;-) Caro, especially for you, part of this is cooking lessons. :-) Enjoy!

* * *

"Who's got plans for Christmas?" Deeks dumped his bag on his desk, turning around to look from Callen to Sam. "Come on, guys, this is the one holiday we're off, how come you don't have plans?" he added, when it stayed silent.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Deeks. "Have I said that I don't have plans?"

"No, but no response from you usually means no plans." Deeks grinned. "We're having a family gathering, for the first time in… ever, aren't we, Kensalina?"

Kensi looked up from her laptop. "If we can convince the moms to split cooking duties, yes." She smiled. "But it's really great to have them together, in _our_ _house_. First time we get to host Christmas."

Callen was happy for them. It had been years since Kensi had enjoyed Christmas, and if there was someone who deserved it, it was her.

"What about you, Sam?"

"Michelle's mom is coming, as usual, and we have the kids, of course. A simple family celebration." He leaned back in his chair. "Can I tell Kamran that Uncle Callen is joining us again, this year?"

Callen hesitated long enough for the rest of the team to notice. "I might actually have plans…" he murmured.

Kensi smiled encouragingly at him. "Might have plans? You're not sure yet?"

He shook his head. "Not yet." Christmas hadn't come up between the two of them yet, but with it only three weeks away, it needed to. First Christmas they were dating. That had to count for something, but for all he knew, Deja had made plans to visit her parents in London, so she might not even be here.

"Well, if you find yourself alone on Christmas morning, know that you're welcome to join us," she said.

Callen nodded. "Thank you."

Sam frowned. "Christmas at the Hanna household suddenly not good enough anymore?"

"Got nothing to do with that. I might have plans. I might not. If anything changes, I'll let you know." He went back to his screen, signaling that this conversation was over.

Kensi and Deeks eyed each other, shrugging. Deeks could sense there was something he wasn't telling them, but he left it, knowing that Callen had given them the same treatment when he and Kensi had first become an item. Whatever it was, he wasn't ready to share yet. If only Sam got the same vibe from him. Sam was not going to let it go as easily. Deeks had caught him staring at and trying to get information out of Callen for a while now. Callen wasn't budging an inch, and Deeks wondered if Sam was going to know when to stop. Probably not.

Callen broached the subject with Deja that night, during his cooking lesson. "Have you made plans for Christmas?"

Deja raised her eyes from chopping up basil for their pasta sauce. She pursed her lips. "Christmas is the one week of the year we close Indulge," she started, "to spend time with family and do nothing, really. Usually, I go to London, or my parents try and visit here. I've actually got a plane ticket booked for Barcelona this time. We're meeting Abuela and my uncles there."

Callen nodded, stirring in the onion, garlic and celery combination. "Am I adding tomatoes now?"

"You are." Deja handed him the can. "Don't let Nanna know that I've let you use canned tomatoes, if it ever comes up. She'll kill me." For a moment, she eyed him. "Are you disappointed that we're not going to have Christmas together?"

Part of him was. The other part of him knew it was probably too soon for them to spend Christmas with each other. "Sort of, I guess, but I don't think either of us thought we'd be dating, right?"

"Right." She smiled and nodded to his pan. "Turn the heat down, please, or our sauce will be burnt."

He did as he was told and was silent for a while, except for asking about the things to go in their dinner. Maybe he was more disappointed than he thought. Of course, Deja caught on. "Grisha…" She added the basil and oregano to the pot, put the lid on and took the spoon out of his hand. Then, she made him look at her. "Talk to me, please."

He hesitated, swallowed. "I don't know…" Embarrassed, he looked down at his shoes. "Maybe I was hoping that you'd be here," he admitted. "More so than I realized. But it's three weeks to Christmas, and we've been only dating for that same amount, so I guess that it makes sense that we're not doing anything together. I'm just more disappointed than I thought I'd be."

She nodded. "I know. Between you and me, I'd rather be home, here with you, than in Barcelona with the rest of the family, somehow." Her forehead touched his. "And I'm tempted to invite you over, and introduce you to them, but it's way too early for that. If we're going to make this work, we'll have to take our time."

"I hate you for being sensible, sometimes," he murmured. "But I know you're right." He squeezed her hands. "And what's a week? Last time I had to go I was gone almost a month and we survived that."

"Yeah, we did." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "Don't worry, I'll still like you when I get back."

He snorted. "God, I hope so." Hearing the hissing in the pan, he turned back to the stove and took a deep breath. "We boil pasta?"

Deja grinned. "If you want to eat pasta, I do suggest you boil it first, yes." She stuck her tongue out at him. "I took some out of the pantry downstairs, I'll teach you how to make your own another time. Do you have any idea how long it has to cook?"

Callen thought about it for a moment. "A few minutes?"

"Fresh pasta like this needs around three to four to cook. Dried pasta takes double that."

She added the pasta to a pot of boiling water she had put on earlier, and took the lid of the pan that held their sauce. "At this point, knowing that it'll only take a few minutes to boil the pasta, you add salt and pepper to taste. The herbs have already given off flavor, so you don't want to overdo it. Little pinches at a time."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at the table. Callen took a bite and was pleasantly surprised. "This is good."

Deja smiled. "Well, that was the plan, right?"

"Yeah, I know, but this… Wow."

She was continually awed by his responds to flavors. It was a good thing he was still discovering, because she was used to her food being the way it was, which usually meant she took it for granted. This journey with him made her see and experience things differently as well.

They ate making small talk, chatting about this and that. "Do you have anyone to drop you of at the airport?" Callen asked, getting back to her trip.

"I'm going to take a cab," Deja said, stirring in her tea. "Why?"

"I can take you."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course."

"That would be wonderful."

Hours later, he pressed soft kisses to her lips in goodbye. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"I'm counting on it. Jess will have breakfast ready."

"Looking forward to it already." One last kiss and he let her go. It wouldn't be a Christmas together, yet, but at least she was coming back to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Christmas is up! I've struggled with this bit for a while; going back and forth, deleting, then re-writing a few times. Hope this does the trick.

* * *

Christmas morning came and Callen found himself at a loss what to do with himself. He didn't want to intrude on Kensi and Deeks' Christmas, but he didn't want to go to Sam's and he didn't want to be alone either.

When he reached for his phone to go and call Deeks after all, he'd missed a text from Deja. _Merry Christmas! Go and see your friends; they offered. Take that quiche I made you put in your freezer so you don't come empty handed, and have FUN! Kiss, Dee_

Maybe she was more observant than he thought she was. She was getting under his skin and he didn't even know it. At last, he gave up, grabbed the quiche and headed out the door. When he walked up to their door, he was still hesitant, but maybe it was time he reached out. And they _had_ offered, after all.

Kensi's face lit up when she opened the door. "Callen!" She hugged him and ushered him through to the living room. "Your plans fell through?"

"Sort of. Long story. Are you sure that I'm not intruding?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You are like my brother. We offered, and I'm glad you're taking us up on it."

He handed her the quiche, relieved that he wasn't invading anything. Kensi grinned. "What's this?"

Four pairs of eyes were watching him. He shrugged sheepishly. "It's a quiche. Tomatoes, goat's cheese and herbs. Homemade."

Julia was the first to respond by walking up and taking the quiche out of his hands. "Thank you, Callen. Apparently, I've done a poor job with my daughter." She glanced at Kensi. "Kensi, when guests bring something, you say thank you."

"I'm too speechless to say anything," Kensi recovered. "Since when do you cook?"

Deeks shook his head. "He's been cooking forever. You do remember he brings lunch these days, to work?" He raised his glass at Callen and winked. "Good to have you here, brother."

"Thanks." He took in the huge Christmas tree and decorations. Their house was homely. Something he was going to have to make of his own place, someday. It made you feel at home, at ease.

"Here." Kensi handed him a glass of punch. "I know, I know. We're doing this whole domestic thing this year. I'm not apologizing for being settled. I like it."

He did, too. Dinner came and everybody complimented him on the quiche, so much, that he readily admitted to having had help. "I didn't do it on my own, you know. I'm still a complete disaster in the kitchen, on my own."

Deeks snorted. "You can't possibly be worse than Kensi. She'll manage to burn a boiling egg."

Kensi stuck her tongue out, not insulted in the least. "I would. Thankfully for me, I have you, and Mom, and Roberta, so we won't completely starve to death."

"Do we know her?" Roberta put her fork down.

Callen looked up, startled. "Who?"

She pointed at her food. "The girl that's learning you to cook."

He shook his head. "It's just cooking lessons at a local bistro. Nothing fancy. It was about time I had some domestic skills."

Both mothers regarded him as if to contradict him, but said nothing. Callen found that he actually liked this small family gathering. It was cozy and more importantly, he was able to be himself. Even though he knew both Julia and Roberta saw right through him, they didn't ask further. He laughed, he drank, made fun with Deeks and of Kensi, and enjoyed their company. After dinner, he found himself walking Monty with Deeks, while the women were doing dishes.

"Thanks for being here, Callen." He seemed as genuine as Callen had ever seen him.

"I should thank you for having me," Callen answered. "This was the first Christmas you had with both your moms."

"Second. And you're part of the family." He was silent for a moment. "You think you'll ever get used to the no family part of life?"

The question took him by surprise. "I wish I could answer yes," he answered truthfully. "But I've had over thirty years to come to terms with it, and I'm still a 'tribe of one'."

"Yeah. But being a tribe of one sucks, doesn't it?" Deeks looked at him.

"You're lucky, you've got Kensi, and two mothers, although that might not always have gone the way you want it to. You do still have them."

Deeks had to give him that, even though Callen had skillfully sidestepped the question. "We do. Know that you'll always have Kensi and me. Whatever might be going on, you'll always have a place with us."

Callen swallowed. "Thanks, Deeks, I really appreciate that."

Deeks shrugged. "Us foster kids have to stick together, right? We're the only ones who really know what it's like."

"Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately." For a moment, he paused, tugging Monty along. "Whoever she is, keep her to yourself for as long as you can. Sam will hijack her the moment he knows she's there."

Was he really so unsuccessfully shielding his private life from his work one? "What are you talking about? Why is everyone so insistent that there's someone in my life?" At least he could put up some sort of front.

Laughing, Deeks shook his head. "Kensi and I might have danced around each other for a while, but I know the look of a man in love, Callen. You look like a love struck puppy every time you open your lunch box and stash the notes when you think no one is looking." He winked. "Don't worry, you hide it very well and I won't tell a living soul."

He'd gravely underestimated Deeks' s detective skills. He'd thought he was not showing anything, but apparently, he was. "What was your first clue?"

"That you've met someone? I might've missed the fact that you no longer sleep at the office, but there are the lunches. The rushing off after work. The tea. The smiling. There was the Sahara, with the mild panic attack at having misplaced your personal phone… All small changes, but changes. I'm not as dense as I sometimes pretend to be."

"I know that." If there was one thing he'd learned about Deeks over the years, it was that the man was way better at his job than he would let on. "Apparently, I need to be more careful than I thought."

"You can always tell Sam to stow it. If you don't want to share, you don't want to share. Totally get that part. She's not in town, then?"

"She's in Barcelona, visiting family." He didn't know why he was sharing all this. He'd kept his budding romance with Deja under wraps for months now; he was used to it. Perhaps he was ready to let someone know that he was genuinely happy. "I'm counting down the days until she's back. You think that's weird?"

"Nope."

"You serious?"

Deeks raised an eyebrow at him. "Really, bro? Last time I checked, missing someone was a good, although difficult, thing. I was close to counting minutes when Kensi was in Afghanistan."

That Callen knew. Living through it was different to watching something happen from a distance, though.

"When's she coming back?"

"Saturday." Only four more long days until he could hold her in his arms again. Then something struck him. "You think Eric and Nell know?"

Deeks shook his head. "Nah, they're way too busy with their own may-or-may-not thing that they'd notice stuff like that. Hetty on the other hand…"

He wasn't going to kid himself. "Oh, Hetty knows. I don't know how she knows, but she knows."

"It's probably her Hettyness or something. Does it bother you?"

Callen shrugged. "I haven't thought about it yet. I mean, she knew you and Kensi would be a good fit; the only thing I can hope is that she thinks the same for me with Dee."

"Dee, huh?"

Callen rolled his eyes. Why was he spilling his secrets so easily? "Deja. Dee is just way easier." They were back at the house, and Callen held Deeks back. "Uhm…"

Deeks patted his back. "Don't worry. I promised I wouldn't tell a living soul. She's yours to share, not mine." With that he unclipped Monty's leash and started walking. "Come on Monty, let's see if Mommy made coffee yet."


	11. Chapter 11

A little later than planned, but here it is. She's back! ;-)

* * *

Saturday had finally arrived, and Callen was excitedly pacing down the arrival hall. After an excruciatingly long week without her, he wanted her home, with him. He hadn't known you could miss anyone like that. There was the New Years Eve party they were going to tonight, but until then he had her to himself.

A glance at his phone revealed that her plane should've landed by now. People were starting to get in, but he wasn't seeing her familiar form yet. It wasn't until he heard his name, that he finally saw her. "Grisha!"

She was running, and he smoothly caught her. She smelled like sunshine and coconut; courtesy of the sunscreen she used. Her laugh and excitement just made his entire week right again. Every miserable, lonely minute he had to endure, was worth it because she was back. Because she still fit under his chin, because he could _hold_ her.

Her grip on him tightened and her breathing slowed down. And for minutes, they stood there, locked in a seemingly endless embrace. Ultimately, Deja pulled back and kissed him. "Hi."

"Hey, you." God, it was good to hear her voice. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

She smiled and rested her forehead against his. "Believe me, I have a pretty good idea." Deja swallowed. "Who would've thought, huh?"

"Yeah." He searched her eyes. "Welcome home."

And what a wonderful welcome it was. He seemed in one piece, but his eyes still reflected sadness, and if she could, she'd love it all away. For now, she'd settle with an afternoon for the both of them, somewhere quiet and alone. Time for catching up. "Thank you." For another moment, she basked in the pleasure of simply holding him, before letting go in search of her luggage.

"Do you need to take a nap before the party tonight?" He was steering the car in the direction of a park.

"Only if you take one with me." She was being bold, she knew that. But the only thing she wanted was to be with him, to love all his pieces back together. So she had to push sometimes.

Callen couldn't hold back a grin. "Deal."

Half an hour later they were sitting under a tree on a blanket with a picnic. Deja shook her head at him. "Have you been practicing?"

Shrugging, he refused. "Unfortunately for you, not as much as you would like. I had some other things to take care of this week. But I got everything from that place Derek has been talking about. Just of the farmers market?"

Deja nodded, knowing what he was referring to. "It looks delicious." She took a bit out of a sandwich and closed her eyes. Callen observed her, being completely at ease just having her close.

"How was your trip?"

Deja looked up and smiled at him. "Great. It was nice to see everyone again. Uncle Diego is getting married again, sometime next year, and his fiancée is a sweetheart. Mom and Dad are great, Nanna and Abuela say hello…" She dived into a description of her family and her trip. Callen laughed at her little cousins' antics and tried to make a picture in his head. It wasn't until she actually produced photos that he could put names with faces.

"… and lastly, Enrique and Carmen with baby. Carmen is Arturo's daughter." She grinned up at him. "And no, you're not missing baby. Baby won't be here until the summer."

"Ah." He shook his head, staring at the photo. It was a large family; grandmothers, mothers, fathers, nieces, nephews, cousins, grandchildren. "That's all your extended family?"

Deja nodded, swallowing a sip of iced tea. "Yeah. Diego, Arturo and Pepe are Mama's brothers, and Tia Beatriz is her sister. They all have kids, plural. And those kids, my cousins, are all starting to have kids, too. We're getting bigger by the year."

Without saying anything, Callen looked down at the pictures in her hands. To actually have a family to go home to. Someone who'd known you all your life; knew your parents and where you came from. He couldn't really picture it. Besides, the small family he had at NCIS didn't compare to this life size one.

Deja watched him closely. He was struggling with her description of her family, large as it was. And she'd only fully covered the Spanish side. There was a, albeit smaller, British side to that family as well. "You know, if you play your cards right, you might actually meet my parents when they come here in April."

That made him lift his eyes to hers. He blinked once, then smiled. "April, huh?"

"There's time to prepare yourself." She winked. "Did you to over to your friends' for Christmas?"

Of course she'd noticed his inner turmoil. She'd make a damn good federal agent, looking right through anyone. He let her change the subject. "Actually, I did. I had to give my compliments on the quiche, they really liked it."

She beamed. "Oh, great! You tell them that you helped me make it?"

"I did." He told her about his reluctance to go, then her text at the exact right moment, and the fact that he had enjoyed himself immensely. "Of course Julia and Roberta saw right through me, but they didn't interrogate me on the matter, so we left it at that."

Deja laughed. "Mothers tend to do that. Life experience and all that." She yawned. "Oh, I'm sorry. Stupid jetlag."

It wasn't stupid. Of course she was tired. Honestly, he would've stayed in Spain, no matter whom he'd promised to be back for New Year's. All that hassle. She settled between his legs, his back resting against the tree they were sitting under. He kissed the top of her head. "Sweet dreams." Deja was asleep within seconds.

Callen let out a breath. He seemed to be able to breath easier when she was close. This past week had been hell. He wasn't used to doing stuff on his own anymore. She left a void in his life that he hadn't known she'd filled. But peacefully sitting here, looking out over the park, with her in his arms, he knew that he'd do everything in his power to keep her. And the thought both scared and elated him.

They arrived to the party a few minutes late. Of course he'd fallen asleep right along with her and they'd woken way later than expected. Dropping Deja off at her apartment, he made a U-turn to his house to shower and get dressed, only to drive back to pick her up.

"Your hair is down." It was the first thing he noticed. Normally, it was up in a bun, or braided, to keep it out of her face. He liked this.

"You're in an actual suit," she pointed out. "You clean up nice."

"Thank you."

Unsurprisingly, Lindy and Jess were all over her the minute they set foot in the jazz club. "You're here!"

Callen took a step back to let the girls say hello. Somebody next to him handed him a glass of champagne. "This might take a while." The guy offered him a hand. "Ted. I'm with Lindy."

He had a hard time tearing his eyes away from Deja. "Grisha." The name rolled of his tongue as if it hadn't been his name for less than a year.

"You're Deja's boyfriend." It wasn't even a question.

"I am." Did he actually sound proud admitting that?

Ted grinned. "From what I've heard from Lin, you make her happy. But I've seen her hurt before, and if I even have the slightest idea that you don't deserve her, expect your days to be numbered."

Callen bowed his head. "Understood." He could tell Ted was only trying to protect her. "I take that she's been hurt before?"

"She wants to believe in the good in others, which is admirable, but it's worked against her way too many times. A normal person would've given up on the human race altogether, but not Deja. She's positive and stubborn to a fault." Ted tilted his glass in the direction of the girls. "I'd hate to see her hurt _again_."

Yeah. Callen noted that his protective instinct had taken over when it came to her. It was on a completely different level than it was with Kensi, which was new to him. Even the thought of her getting hurt, in any way, made him clench his hands into fists.

Having made good on his sort-of-threat, Ted steered the conversation to work. "So, what do you do for a living?"

Callen still hadn't shared specifics with her, so he wasn't going to share specifics with Ted either. "Government job."

"Somewhere in the alphabet soup?"

"Yeah, somewhere in the alphabet soup. You?"

"I'm a vet."

They talked shop for a few minutes, until the girls came back. Deja slipped under his arm. "I see that you've met Ted."

"I have."

"Ted's great. And don't take everything he says seriously. Not even Lindy does that." She stuck her tongue out. "Come dance with me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Dance with you?"

"Yeah. You know, sway to a musical tune. Move one foot in front of the other. It's like walking, but different."

He rolled his eyes. "You make it sound so appealing."

"I do, don't I?" Halfway to the dance floor, she turned to him. "You do dance, right?"

His answer was to take her all the way. Deja was flabbergasted that he danced as well as he did. Callen was glad that all those dance lessons years ago from Hetty paid of. At least now he could use his skills for something else than an undercover op.

With only half a minute to go to midnight, he gathered her close, laughing. She pushed her hair back and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Have I ever mentioned that I'm extremely grateful that I walked into your café on accident?"

"You and me both," she said. They counted down with everyone else, and he kissed her as the clock struck midnight. A happy new year it would be.


	12. Chapter 12

This part might be a little more heavy hearted than the rest of it, as of now, but it's necassary in order for their relationship and the story to progress. Let me know if I've done it justice.

* * *

"Do you have to go right back to Indulge?"

Deja regarded him, closing the trunk of the car. Something about him had been off all day, and she hadn't been able to figure out what it was. "No, I don't have to go back, at all, if you have other plans."

"Come with me for a while?"

She smiled encouragingly. "Always."

Once en route, he steered them in a direction she didn't recognize, but she didn't say anything. Eventually, he stopped in front of a house, in a quiet neighborhood. He turned the engine off and turned to her. "I want to show you something." Callen had made the decision to show her his house earlier that week. He wasn't sure what she was going to say, but for some reason it mattered. He seemed to stumble over his thoughts, embarrassed. "Promise not to judge me?"

Deja nodded solemnly. "I promise." Whatever it was, she'd face it with an open mind. Judging by his behavior, her reaction was significant.

He took her hand and they walked up to the house. Opening the door, he stepped aside to let her in. Deja looked around. The house itself was gorgeous, spacious, light. She noticed the fireplace first thing, then the French doors of to the side, into the dining area.

She saw the lone chair in the corner, with a lamp and a side table. Apparently, he hadn't lived here long. "May I?"

He stepped back and nodded, nervously watching her every move. Deja wondered of into the kitchen. No knick-knacks, things, just his kettle and tea in a corner. Again, lovely light because of the window. But no personal things. She took a quiet tour of the house. Upstairs, the master bedroom, with a bed and closet, but little else. Two smaller bedrooms, not filled with anything at all. Somehow, it all made sense when she came back downstairs, and noticed the small plant on the mantle.

Then she looked at the man she was certain she loved. He looked on edge, hesitant, nervous. "It's gorgeous."

The only reaction she got was a nod of his head. He didn't say anything, didn't look at her. Deja edged closer to him, careful, as if not to disturb him. "Who gave you the epiphyte?"

Completely caught off guard, he looked up. "What?"

"The plant?" she clarified. "Who gave it to you?"

He swallowed. "Hetty. My boss."

Deja was impressed. This house made sense, now. He was afraid of putting down roots. "How look have you been living here?"

Again, he was looking at his shoes. "Few years."

Okay, so maybe terrified was a better word. "Just bought it on a hunch?"

"Hetty thought I needed a place to stay. She sort of bullied me into buying it."

At least he was giving her answers. "Why this house?"

He took a deep breath, and for a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer her. "I stayed here, when I was a teenager."

One of his foster homes, then. "Did you like it here?"

Another nod.

With every question, she'd inched closer. She was standing in front of him now. "Why are you showing it to me?"

That was todays million dollar question. There was a reason he'd brought her here, but she wasn't entirely sure what it was. He was avoiding her gaze, still so when he answered. "I wanted you to see it."

She understood that. But there was a reason there, and she needed him to say it. "I've seen it. Now what?"

Finally, he met her eyes. He was fighting tears and she wanted nothing more than to hug him and make everything better. But he needed to voice his thought first. So she waited. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he started talking. "I need roots. But I'm scared to death to put down roots because of my past, because of who I am. I've never belonged anywhere, and deep down, I want to, but I don't know how." And suddenly, he was spilling secrets; about his parents, his foster homes, about going from job to job because he didn't really care about the rules, because he was too much of a lone wolf. All his life he'd tried to fit in, to be as everybody else. But his past had shaped him, more than he'd be willing to admit. That he'd been going from motel to motel, to spare rooms and couches because he couldn't bring himself to make a more permanent commitment. Until Hetty came with the contract for his old foster home. Then he'd finally caved, partly. At least he owned the house, but he hadn't been able to get himself to buy furniture because that would be permanent. That would mean that he'd actually have a house. An address. A home.

While he was talking, Deja was standing in his personal space, open posture, just listening. She soaked everything he was telling up, memorizing every last piece of information he fed her, so that she could remember later. Her heart ached for him, for the person he became because so many things had happened to him before the age of twelve. Finally, he took a shaky breath and shrugged. "Anyway, what I meant to say with all that… Would you like to help me make this more of a home?"

Carefully, she wiped the tears he'd shed from his cheeks. "It would be my pleasure."

"Yeah? I haven't scared you away yet?"

She frowned. "What makes you think you ever will?"

"I'm a mess. Nate would say that I have so many unresolved issues, that it's probably not wise to enter any type of relationship until I've figured them all out."

Deja cradled his head in her hands and kissed his lips. "Well, in that case, I'm afraid the human race will be extinct in a few decades. Because we all have issues. I'm way too trusting, I prefer to see the good in people, instead of acknowledging that they have a dark side, and I need to work on that. But there's always the chance to figure them out together. You think that's an option?"

More grateful than he could ever express to her, he nodded. "Let's try that."

Finally, she wrapped her arms around him. "That's why you been nervous the entire afternoon? Because of the house?"

"You noticed that?"

She laughed. "Babe, I've known you for a little while now. Something was of."

He really couldn't get anything passed her. "Yeah. I was nervous. Sam always jokes about my unfurnished house, without knowing the real reason that it's the way it is. It doesn't really bother me; he means well. It's just that… Telling you why my house is the way it is, is a whole different ballgame. It's another level of scared because if I ever scare you away…" Shaking his head, he tried to keep control of his emotions.

Again, she kissed him. For a while, they didn't say anything and Deja tried to process everything he'd said. Maybe it was too early to say what she was going to say, maybe it was the perfect moment, she didn't know. She just wanted him to know. Lifting her head, she locked eyes with him. When she was sure she had his full attention, she started to talk. "Listen carefully, okay? I love you. With your past, and the job you can't tell me about yet, and your commitment issues, and your flaws. I love _you_. So scaring me away is not going to happen, no matter what you tell me. I don't care about all the monsters in your closet, because I know that we'll tackle them together and we'll sort it out. Please stop thinking that one day I'll have enough of this, of _us,_ of _you_. I'm _never_ voluntarily going to leave you."

Fresh tears threatened to spill, and he tried to stop them. He'd spend the rest of his life trying to repay the universe for this woman. Other than his mother and his sister, nobody had so openly loved him for him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt cherished, and loved and at peace. And right now, in this moment, he felt all of that. "Just like that? You love me?"

Her eyes danced with mirth. "Just like that. I love you. And don't you dare say it back yet, you're nowhere near ready for that. But it's the only way I may be able to get through that thick skull of yours that I'm here to stay. Not going anywhere."

All his nervousness now gone, he gathered her close and kissed her with all he had. "I don't deserve you."

"You need me." She smiled. "And that goes the other way around as well, so consider us even."

For the first time that day, his laughter reached his eyes. Nervousness had made way for relief; relief that she wasn't going anywhere; surprise, that she was so sure of her feelings to admit that she loved him. Calmness, because he felt that he could make something of his house with her. She was going to be here. That was all that mattered.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter, everyone! It's always good to know you've done something right by your characters. ;-)

Caroline: Callen is still in the 'figuring-out-if-I-can-really-trust-you' fase with Deja, so him telling her he loves her is way too soon. He does, though, and he'll come to that realization later on in the story, and it'll (hopefully) be a perfect moment when he tells her. It has nothing to do with him not being brave enough, but he's been damaged, and up until now, everyone who's loved him (his parents, Amy, Tracy up until some extent) has left him. He needs to be sure Deja is here to stay before he can return the sentiment. He's not at that point yet.

Enjoy, guys!

* * *

"How about this one?" Deja patted the seat next to her. They had been going in and out of furniture shops for a morning, without him giving her anything to go by, but she didn't seem to mind. When he didn't really react, she got up again and went to take his hand. "Baby, I know it's not the easiest or most fun thing to do, but if you don't try stuff, we're never going to know what you like."

Callen let himself be guided. He'd never even bothered to look at furniture, let alone that he'd know what to look for. He fell down in the seat next to her on the couch, wiggling around a bit. "It's okay." '

Deja shook her head at him. "Okay is a broad term. What do you like, specifically? And what not?"

"I don't know… The fabric is nice, it feels sort of soft." He looked at it. "Maybe not in a L-shape? The living room is not _that_ big."

At least he was making progress. "How about the color?"

"Grey is pretty neutral, right?"

"Yeah, but do you like it?"

He shrugged. "It's grey. Maybe sand, or a bit more brown?"

This, she could work with. "Alright. Grey is not your color, and you need something not as big. Next, then." She rose.

Callen dutifully followed her as they trailed through the shop. While Deja was talking about lighting, he stopped next to a big, dark brown leather couch. Deja didn't notice she'd lost him until she was at the end of the aisle. She found him a few yards back, sitting on a couch. Momentarily, she watched him. His posture was relaxed, his face content. He might have actually found the perfect thing for him, on his own.

She quietly approached him. "This one better?"

He looked up at her. "I think so." He bounced. "It's soft, and comfortable. And I like the color."

She sank down next to him. "Oh, this is nice."

"Right?" He was getting excited. "And this is probably the perfect size to go in front of the fireplace."

He'd given it more thought than she would've thought. She grinned. "Ah, so this goes in front of the fireplace. What about your chair? Are you going to keep it?"

"Maybe," he answered non-committedly. "What do you think?"

She looked at him. "Pros and cons?"

"Pros: it's big enough for both of us, it's cozy, I like it. You need more?"

"Cons?" She wasn't deterred.

"Can't think of any."

Laughing, she nudged his shoulder. "You'll need to treat it with something, to keep the leather soft and as gorgeous as it is now. No sticky hands near it. And are you willing to spend an insane amount of money on a couch?"

"We'll still have it in fifteen years."

Her heart jumped at his 'we'. As if he was already sure they would still be together. "Have you even looked at the price tag?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Aren't you going to?"

Callen looked from her to the couch and back. "You wanted me to go shopping for furniture. I'm picking furniture. You not happy about that?"

Deja rolled her eyes. "I'm happy about that, babe. And if you want to splurge on one thing, this would be it. Just trying to make sure this is really what you want."

"Don't you like it?"

"I love it," she assured him. She did. The leather looked a bit beaten, but she liked that about leather. It aged well. Like wine. And men. The seat was just right for his taller frame, and she loved that you could cocoon in it. It was perfect for reading a book and snuggling.

"Good." He was pleased, she could tell. Like a kid in a candy store. Happy.

"You found what you were looking for?"

The both of them looked up at the sales person. Callen answered. "We want this one."

"Excellent choice."

Of course it was. Deja shook her head, still in slight disbelief that he was going to spend all that money on a couch. He was probably right, investment wise. If they took care of it, they were going to lounge on it in thirty years. It was a classic, timeless piece. She let him deal with the actual buying; wondering of to another part of the store.

He found her in a rocking chair a few minutes later. She radiated contentment, softly humming a song that he didn't know. He knew she had a rocking chair in her apartment; one that reminded her of the one Nanna had when she was little. Suddenly, he could picture her sitting in a chair like this, belly swollen with someone they had created, and humming that same song. Swallowing hard, he blinked twice. Was that what he wanted? He'd never thought about it that much; having a family had never really been a possibility in his line of work. But hadn't he secretly prayed, hoped? Maybe now, with her, it was a possibility. Maybe, somewhere in the future, he was going to have that with her.

Deja opened her eyes and smiled at him. "All set?"

"All set." He took her hand and helped her up. "You and rocking chairs, huh?"

She pulled her shoulders up. "They calm me. I like the one in my apartment better, though."

"It has cushions."

"That might be it." Her eyes wondered around. "How about we take a break, and then try and find a dining table? Or were you going to fill the dining room with something else?"

He frowned. "Can I fill the dining room with something else? Where else do you want to eat?"

Yeah, he was sure this was what he wanted. He was including her, talking about the house, about things to get. He'd die before he'd give her up.

She chuckled. "Okay, a break and then a dining table set."

After lunch, Deja took him to a vintage shop she knew. They didn't even have to look far, the first table they saw, they fell in love with. Deja gaped at it, then turned to him. "Please tell me you love this as much as I do?"

He could do little else than agree. It was perfect. The wrought iron base complimented the wooden top perfectly, making the table look rustic and homely. It was big enough to seat at least six people, something Callen knew Deja wanted. There were going to be dinner parties.

The owner of the shop came over when he saw them. "It's a pretty little thing, isn't it?" he drawled. "It came in the other day, and I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be here long. Do you want me to deliver it?"

"You have any chairs to go with it?"

Half an hour later they were standing outside the shop, in the sun, grinning at each other like a couple of idiots. "We haven't even painted the dining room yet," Deja commented. "Where are we going to leave it until then?"

Callen didn't care. "There's always temporary storage in the living room or something. The chairs can go upstairs for the time being. I can't wait to see what it looks like."

Deja knew he meant it. "Good." Looking at her watch, she tugged at his hand. "Come on. We can pick up some color swatches, and get a head start on that now that we still have daylight."

And so he steered the car in the right direction.


	14. Chapter 14

Hi everyone! Surprise update on a Saturday! There will be no time what-so-ever to update tomorrow, so here you are. Valentine's Day has arrived... Enjoy. :-) And Caro, thanks for the help. ;-)

* * *

"Hey, you."

"Hey, you." Deja threw her purse in a corner and smiled. "You were right, you know? That couch is perfect."

Callen grinned as he wrapped his arms around her. It was two days after Valentine's Day and they were celebrating tonight. Indulge was always packed with a special Valentine's menu, so there was no way he could take her out that night. Now they were here, in his house, for a small celebration.

"I still do like it." He kissed her with all the time in the world. "I was thinking that we're missing some sort of rug, though."

"Just a rug?" she winked. "How about a coffee table? Or a dresser?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll add all of it to the list." Then he tugged on her hand, and took her to the dining room. "Can you at least give your approval to the dining room?"

She'd forgotten that the dining table had arrived, along with the chairs. He'd set the table with silverware and glasses she hadn't seen before. "Oh, it's gorgeous!" She took in the setting. "Linen napkins?"

Callen shrugged. "I know you like those better than paper ones. I bought them from an old lady at the vintage market at Victory. She used to own a fabric shop. They're all hand embroidered."

Deja smiled at him, tracing the pattern with a finger. "They're gorgeous."

"Don't worry, we have eight. I remember someone telling me even numbers are important in table linens."

Before she had time to respond, he was off to the kitchen. Come to think of it, it smelled divine. "What are you making? It smells heavenly."

Callen looked up from stirring in the pot. "Wait and see." He'd been preparing this for at least a week, even going so far as having Deeks sampling it. He didn't necessarily want to impress her, just wanted her to know he'd made an effort to make their first Valentine's Day a special one. When she wanted to approach the stove, he stopped her. "You are not supposed to be in here. _My_ kitchen, at least for tonight. After that, yours as well." He softly guided her back to the dining room and pulled out a chair. "Go enjoy our new table. You want some wine?"

She admired the new glasses he had purchased. "Yes, please. Are these new as well?"

Filling her glass with wine, he nodded. "What can I say? Plastic didn't seem to do it for an occasion like this one. Besides, I think the pattern goes with the ones you have."

"Mine are antique."

He nodded, walking back to the kitchen. "Yeah, these as well."

Her eyes widened for a moment. "Seriously? Why? You could've just gotten Ikea ones."

Laughing, he shook his head. "And then get vintage ones when you decide to move in? I clearly recall someone saying that silverware, glasses and china are supposed to be old, because of the stories and the generations before us. The only exceptions being children and picnics."

Deja watched him with a grin on her face. He was rummaging around in the newly stocked kitchen, stirring in pots and pans she'd advised him to purchase. They'd have double when and if she moved in, but she could always leave hers at Indulge. "True as that might be, you didn't have to go all out for just Valentine's Day."

Putting bread and olive oil on the table, he then went back to the kitchen. "Oh, well, if I was going to invest in things for the house, I might as well go all out. Only thing is that we need something to store them in."

"Where did you keep them until now then?"

"Upstairs, wrapped in the same paper they came in. I've only just washed them, extremely carefully, I might add, this afternoon, before setting the table." He came back with two plates with steaming food and put one in front of her. "Milady, may I present, dinner."

He took the seat opposite of her. Deja looked at her plate, impressed. "We haven't covered ratatouille yet."

"We haven't," he acknowledged. "YouTube has, Julia Child has, the library has… I've been practicing for a while."

Taking a bite, Deja closed her eyes. "It's perfect." His flavors were well-balanced, a party on her tongue. "You made this yesterday at least. Now way you made it today and it tastes like this."

"Yesterday." He swallowed a bite. "Do you like it?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "It's wonderful. Just to think that you went through all this… You couldn't properly cook an egg when I first started to teach you. And now look a this, Grisha: proper ratatouille."

He almost started to blush. "Okay, don't go overboard with the compliments yet. There's still dessert."

After dessert, which consisted of ice cream that he readily confessed to be bought from an Italian store downtown, they were stirring in their tea. Deja beamed up at him. "You've done great, babe. Thank you for a wonderful home made dinner, almost completely made by you."

Callen swallowed a sip of his tea, told her to stay put, then went to get something from the living room. When he came back, he took the seat next to her, instead of the one he'd just vacated. "I want to show you something."

Deja looked at him expectantly. She'd learned that when he wanted to show her something, it would be significant to him, like his house. So she patiently waited.

Callen stared down at the tea box in his hands. It was all he knew about his past; every tidbit of information he'd gathered in the last couple of years. Showing this to her was a big deal. But he'd promised himself that he was going to move forward, and the only person he felt comfortable enough doing that with, was her. Clearing his throat, he handed her the box. "It's not so much a traditional Valentine's Day gift as jewelry, but I hope that you appreciate it nonetheless."

Deja was sure she would before she even lifted the lid. In it, she found the first personal items in his house. She put her cup down on the saucer, and looked at him. "May I?"

"Please."

The first item she had in her hand was a small tin soldier. Without asking, he explained. "This one's difficult. I got a similar one the day my mother was shot, to distract me. I remember building a sandcastle and putting a same tin soldier on the top." His voice caught, and Deja squeezed his hand. "I lost the original, but I found this one on Amy's grave a few years back. It's a reminder of some sort."

"Of what?"

"Of what I lost when I wasn't paying attention."

Deja swallowed hard. "You don't blame yourself for your mother's death, right? You were five. Of course you were going to be distracted by someone handing you a toy."

"Not anymore. I've realized that there was nothing I could've done. Help was on the way, but it came too late." He took the soldier out of her hand and set it aside. "Help made sure Amy and I ended up here."

Sensing that for the moment, that was all he was going to say, Deja reached for the next item in the box. It was a picture of a much younger Grisha with a little girl. "Who's this?"

"That is Alina. She was my foster sister for a little while."

"You look happy, here."

"I was. Life was uncomplicated for a small amount of time."

Tracing the picture, she smiled. "You still in contact with her?"

Callen shook his head. "Not anymore. She died a few years ago."

Her eyes went wide. Something was starting to make sense. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, he stared at the picture. "It's okay." He looked around. "This is that house. Hetty sort of made me buy it because it was the one place I'd felt safe, I guess. I'd been happy here."

"And you'll be again," she whispered.

Scooting closer, he threw his arm at the back of her chair. "I'm pretty much counting on that."

Smiling, she rested her head against his for a moment, before reaching for the next item. "Who is this?"

"My mother."

The gorgeous woman was smiling up at them from the picture. She was young, had her whole life before her. "She's beautiful."

He agreed with a silent nod of his head. Deja knew better than to ask, and reached for the next item. They went through the box, with the few pictures of his childhood that he had, the filmstrip, which, as he explained, contained footage of him with his father and Amy and the coin his father had used to smuggle people out of Russia.

The last thing Deja pulled out of the box, was a key. She turned to him, the question written on her face.

"Remember those few days I was away for something at work, a few weeks back?" At her nod, he continued. "That case got to me. Sometimes we come across something that involves foster kids, and, much as I hate it, those cases get to me. We hadn't spoken to each other for three days or so, and god, I missed you. Case wrapped up, I come home at two thirty in the morning, and the only thing I want is to get some sleep. Well, at least I want my mind to stop running around in circles and calm down." He reached for her hand and threaded their fingers together. "It wouldn't happen. Tea didn't help, exhausting myself with exercise, or cleaning out my gun wouldn't help. Nothing I did helped. And then I realized something. The only thing I wanted was you. The only thing I wanted was your presence because you calm me down."

Deja stared at him, her brow furrowed. "Why didn't you call?"

"Not at three in the morning. I know how much you need your sleep, and you had the early shift that day. No way I was going to wake you up."

"Grisha…" she protested.

He squeezed her hand and shook his head. "Look, I know we're not ready for moving in yet and everything. But can I give you the key, so that I can call you after a long day at work, and that you can just be here when I get back? For some reason sleep comes way easier when you're there."

They hadn't slept together all that often in the passed three months. There was the occasional sleepover, but so far, most of the time, they slept in their own beds. The one thing he'd noticed, though, was that he slept better when she was there to snuggle up to. He'd be more relaxed, instead of his mind working overtime and not letting him sleep more than the odd few hours.

Deja pressed her lips to his. "Of course." She hesitated for a moment. "You do get to call me, all right? Is that something we can agree on? You get to call me, day or night, just because you want to hear my voice. God knows you're my first call whenever something happens. It's what you do when you love someone."

She hadn't let him return the sentiment yet. Every time they said goodbye, she'd say that she loved him, but she wouldn't hear it in return yet. Callen knew that if he said it, he'd mean it. And although he was pretty sure that this was going in that direction, he'd lost too many important people in his life to think easy about 'I love you's'.

"Even when you know you're going to wake them up?"

"What if it was the other way around? What if something happened that rattled me and I'd leave it until the next morning to tell you? What would you say then?"

Realization dawned on him. "I'd probably be mad at you for not calling me right away."

"Exactly. So next time something like that happens, and you're going home alone, call me. Text me. I'll give you a key to the apartment as well, okay? Then we can always find each other, even if it's the middle of the night."

His heart warmed with gratitude. He was on his way to loving this woman. Better thing was, that he was actually letting it happen. No more stonewalling. She saw right through him anyway. Deja kissed him again. "I love you," she whispered. "And thank you for sharing your family and your house with me. I know that wasn't easy for you."

Sometimes he wondered that she made things easier for him. The opening up, the wanting more of what they had together, the letting go of insecurities. "You make it easier for me, just by being you," he told her. "So I should be thanking you."

Smiling, she snuggled into him. "Mmm… You're welcome."

He gathered her close. He might not be ready to say it yet, but he deep down he knew. Maybe he could show her without actually saying words just yet.


	15. Chapter 15

Hello, you guys! Inspiration hit and here we are with the next chapter! Enjoy!

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"Hetty? Do you have a moment?"

The Operations Manager looked up at her team leader. "Mr. Callen. Yes, of course. What can I do for you?"

Callen sank down in the chair on the other side of her desk. "How'd your background check on Deja turn out?"

Hetty narrowed her eyes at him. Apparently he knew her better than she gave him credit for. Callen laughed. "Oh, come on. We both know you know. There's no point in hiding it, Hetty. I would've done the exact same thing had it been the other way around."

That made her feel better, somehow. "Nothing that concerns me," she admitted. "She's squeaky clean."

"I know."

She shook her head. "If you know that, what brings you here? I trust it's not to talk about the weather?"

Callen changed positions, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Believe it or not, she wants to meet you." He shook his head, grinning. "She's been going on about it for a while now, so I can't stall anymore. We'd like to invite you to dinner."

Hetty felt her eyebrows rise to her hairline. "Pardon?"

Again, that grin. It was good to see him grin. "That's what I told her. Told her you'd be more surprised than anything else."

Hetty frowned. "Why would she like to meet me?"

This time, it was Callen who raised an eyebrow at her. "Because you're important to me, Hetty. Have been ever since I was a teenager. Don't you think that's reason enough?"

Nodding, she gave in. "I hope so."

"Trust me. Saturday okay?"

"Saturday is fine. Do I need to bring anything?"

He shook his head. "Appetite and an open mind."

She narrowed her eyes. "To the food or the two of you?"

"Both," he answered easily. "Seven? My place?"

"I'll make sure to be on time."

He rose, signaling that their short conversation was over. "Thank you, Hetty. It means a lot."

She watched him go, not used to this side of him. Of course she'd run a background check on Deja Barrow. Her agents needed to stay safe. Especially this agent. It was nice to see him happy, a bit more carefree than he'd been before. Hetty wondered if maybe Deja was what Callen had needed all along.

That Saturday, Hetty arrived at Callen's house at five minutes to seven. Even walking up to the house felt different, as if she could sense that things had changed on the inside. She could hear soft music playing, and laughter reached her ears.

Knocking, she heard shuffling and then the door opened to a widely grinning Agent Callen. Hetty smiled at him. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

He shook his head, and stepped aside to let her in. "No, you're not. Thanks for coming, Hetty."

The first thing that struck her was the fact that there were actually pieces of furniture in his living room. In all the time she'd known him, this was the most he'd done to decorate a place. The couch took up a lot of space in front of the fireplace, but Hetty found that she liked it. It fit him. Then her eyes travelled to the kitchen and the woman standing in the doorway. She was even prettier in real life than she was in pictures. One look at her and Hetty understood completely why Callen felt relaxed around her. She radiated calmness, and had eyes that seemed to look right through you.

Callen stepped around Hetty and put an arm around her waist. "Hetty, this is Deja. Dee, this is Hetty."

Deja put her hand out for Hetty to shake. "It's nice to meet you."

Her handshake was soft but firm. A minute in and Hetty knew that she could be the perfect girl for the agent she considered her son. She relaxed a bit. "Likewise, Ms. Barrow."

"Oh, please. Ms. Barrow is a bit too formal, don't you think? Deja will do fine."

So Dee was reserved especially for Callen. Understood. Hetty handed her a small gift bag. "I know he told me not to bring anything, but I gathered you're a tea fan. It's one of my favorites. Blood Orange Sorbet Oolong."

Deja took the tin out of the bag and her eyes lit up. "Oh, I've been wanting to try this one. Thank you, Hetty, that's really thoughtful." She looked up at Callen. "Can you show Hetty to the table and give her something to drink? Dinner will be ready in about three minutes."

Callen showed her to the dining room and again, Hetty was impressed. "I love what you've done with the place," she remarked, and this time, it wasn't sarcastic at all.

The smile didn't seem to leave his face, and Hetty was glad it didn't. "Yeah, it was about time. I remember what you told me about the epiphyte, it just took a while to figure out how to actually put down roots." Without asking, he uncorked a bottle of wine and filled her glass. "But you were right, as always. You're stronger with roots."

Hetty looked at him, but didn't say anything for the moment. It would come down to this, eventually. And she was happy that it had happened for him. The only thing she wanted to make sure of was that he was genuinely happy. That she was going to be good for him.

"Grisha?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Come give me a hand, please?"

With a wink, he disappeared into the kitchen. Hetty registered that she'd called him by a first name she hadn't heard before. Could it be that he'd found out? That he'd actually found out and hadn't told her? She looked down at the set table with its linen napkins, gorgeous china and even prettier wine glasses. Apparently, there was a lot he hadn't told her.

They came in laughing; Callen carrying a basket with bread and a salad bowl, and Deja with the three plates. "Dinner is served."

Impressed, Hetty looked down at her plate, then back at Callen. Deja smiled at her as she unfolded her napkin in her lap. "Grisha told me that you've travelled all around the world, and you've eaten almost everything there is to eat, so we opted for something simple. Homemade gravlax with salad and sour dough bread."

This was her definition of simple? Homemade gravlax was grand on its own. Callen slid into the chair next to Deja and chuckled at Hetty's impressed face. "Yeah, I know. She calls all of this simple." He gestured to the table. "She won't admit that most families don't eat like this on a daily basis."

Deja stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, we do."

It didn't go passed Hetty that the 'we' and 'us' had become second nature to them already. Dinner passed with easy conversation about Deja's parents, Hetty's past and the way she and Callen had met, although Deja had already heard most of it. It didn't go unnoticed that Callen was composed; he swung his arm over the back of her chair, leaned into her, teased her. Obviously, her senior agent was smitten with this girl; probably even loved her. Not even with Joelle had Hetty seen him like this.

Over tea, the topic of 'them' came up. Deja put her cup down on its saucer and locked eyes with Hetty.

"Well? What do you think? Have I passed the test?"

Her frankness made that Hetty almost chocked on her sip. Almost. "Whatever made you think this is a test?"

Deja shrugged. "No matter how much he loves me, and I'm fairly sure he loves me, a lot, he wants your blessing more than anything else, Hetty. Believe it or not, you're the closest thing to a mother that he has." She paused, then leaned back in her chair. "Maybe he might even seek permission of some sort."

Hetty noted that her instincts had served her right. This woman could see right through him. There were no secrets she wouldn't get to the bottom of; no things he could willingly keep from her. She would've made a great agent. She eyed Callen over the rim of her cup. "Do you want my permission? It would be awfully late to ask for my permission."

He denied. "Not your permission. Would like to have your blessing, though."

"My blessing?" For a moment she thought. Everything she'd seen so far was positive. Deja made him smile. Made him want to build an actual home. Made him more careful out in the field, so that he could return to her at night. She was the reason he was eating better, was learning how to cook, to openly show affection. She was, wrapped in one person, the reason he was trusting again, the reason he was putting down roots, why he was getting in touch with his feelings. His epiphyte was no longer surviving on only air; it was standing in a pot on the mantle, to grow roots. To grow stronger. In the end, it was all Hetty needed.

"Of course you have my blessing."


	16. Chapter 16

Another Saturday update this time. Might not be here tomorrow, and now I had few minutes to spare, so here you go.  
Thanks for all the reviews and follows, everyone. Good to know this story struck a cord with a lot of you. It means the world to me. **Enjoy!**

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"Coffee anyone?" Callen threw a glance back into the bullpen.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask." Deeks swirled around in his chair. "Only milk for me, please."

Callen shook his head and turned to look at Kensi. "What about you, Kens?"

Kensi lifted her head up and scrunched her nose. "Do you have any of your tea left? I don't think my stomach is going to handle coffee right now."

Both Callen and Deeks frowned at her. "You okay?"

Kensi waved them off. "No need to worry about me. I think it's something I ate or something. Probably just some 24-hour bug or so."

Handing Deeks his mug with coffee, Callen walked over to his desk, rummaging through a drawer. "Let me see what I got in here… Lavender, mint, rosehip… Ah, here it is." Triumphantly, he held up a tin. "This should make you feel better in no time."

A few moments later, Kensi warily eyed the mug in front of her. She sniffed. "Are you sure I can drink this? What is it?"

"Chamomile with just the right amount of ginger added in. Trust me, it's the best pick me up. It'll work faster than two Tylenol. You need to let it steep for a few minutes, though."

From the other end of the bullpen, Sam eyed his partner. "Are you studying to be a herb expert now, G?"

Callen looked up, genuinely surprised. "What? Something I did?"

Sam nodded at Kensi's mug. "Where do you get the wisdom that ginger and chamomile tea is just what Kensi needs? Maybe the Tylenol is better."

"Actually, Mr. Hanna, Mr. Callen is on to something here." Hetty, of course, appeared out of nowhere. "Mr. Callen, a word, please?"

"Yeah." Callen rolled his eyes at his partner, pushed his chair back and followed Hetty to her desk.

Hetty offered him a seat. "Don't worry, I haven't changed my mind about last Saturday. There is one thing I want to verify, and doing that in front of Deja would've been… uncomfortable, shall we say."

Having no clue what she was talking about, Callen shrugged. "What?"

"She calls you Grisha."

"Of course she does." It was out of his mouth before he had the chance to think about it. Then his eyes grew wide as he looked at Hetty. He rubbed the back of his head and took a breath. "That needs an explanation."

"I was hoping there might be one attached to that, yes."

Grisha Callen had not even registered anymore that Deja called him by his first name. At home, he was Grisha, at work, he was G or Callen. It made separating his private and professional life easier. After almost a year, he didn't think about it anymore. All the 'new' people in his life used his first name. And even though he and Deeks had grown closer since Christmas, his name was not something he'd shared yet.

"I found out my name when Sam and I were in Russia last year, for Arkady. My father was the one giving us shelter until we found transportation out of there. He told me what it was."

"I take it Sam doesn't know?"

He snorted. "Hetty, if I've managed to keep it from you for all this time, you really think that Sam knows?"

She had to give him that. "Probably not."

"Dee was the first one to use it. I couldn't really get used to it for a few weeks. Even though I'd spent more than half my life looking for it, I was so used to the G, I couldn't get it to roll of my tongue. She was the first person I introduced myself to as Grisha Callen."

"You haven't officially changed it?"

"Not yet." He'd been stalling. "If I change it, everything changes with it. My badge, my passport, everything. For some reason, I need there to be a line between professional and personal, now that I actually have a personal."

"What's it in full?" After all these years, he'd finally found out! Hetty was thrilled for him, and she could understand his reasons for not sharing. It was only by accident that she'd found out. There were no official documents confirming yet. Since Deja was the only one who'd used it, Hetty needed it confirmed from him.

Callen grinned. "Grisha Aleksandrovich Nikolaev."

"A mouthful."

"A mouthful," he agreed. "Grisha's fine. It's grown on me."

Sam was keeping a careful eye on the two of them. There had been too many changes with Callen in the past year to ignore. He was no longer drinking coffee, he wasn't sleeping at the office anymore, he came in with a packed lunchbox… Sam couldn't remember the last time Callen had actually gone with them for celebratory drinks. He seemed to be in a rush to get home these days. He hadn't even come for Christmas, opting to go to Deeks and Kensi instead. Sam felt left out. Something was going on that he wasn't aware of. Hetty was in on the circle, because she was Hetty and the Operations Manager just knew things. Even Deeks seemed to be able to yank Callen's chain from time to time, leaving the team leader with a flushed complexion every now and then.

Things had shifted. Sam was not entirely sure he liked it. Not that Callen didn't watch his back in the field, he did, maybe even more so than he'd done before. And they would still banter about nothing and everything. But where Sam could pry things out of him in the past, Callen was now completely tightlipped about his personal life. Maybe he was running a private undercover op for Hetty or Granger. No, surely Hetty would've told him. Then again, probably not.

Whatever it was, Sam didn't appreciate the drift he felt forming between him and his partner. Callen seemed fine, just doing his day-to-day things. But the not sharing things bothered Sam to no extent. Even with Joelle he had been able to get _some_ information out of him. Now, not so much as even an acknowledgement that Callen was actually seeing someone. If he kept this up, he'd show up with a wedding ring on his finger one day and be completely surprised if they'd go ballistic on him.

No, Sam was going to have to find a way to figure out what the hell was going on with his partner.


	17. Chapter 17

Another Saturday update from me! I might just tell you I'm going to update on the weekend, whenever that might be. Work's been crazy and will only be worse for the whole August month, so there might not be enough time to write. I've written pretty much the next two chapters, but there might come a point in the coming month or so that I'm going to skip weekly updates for a while. Here's hoping it won't come to that, but consider yourself warned.

Caroline: Wait for it. ;-)

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"Eric? Do you have a moment?"

The tech looked up from his screen at the ex-Navy Seal. "Sam. How can I help?"

Sam sank down in the chair normally occupied by Nell. "Have you noticed anything off about Callen? I mean, can you see if he's frequenting places?"

Eric raised an eyebrow. "No…" came the hesitant reply. "I haven't noticed anything abnormal. Why?"

"He's hiding something."

"Hiding something? Like what?"

"A girlfriend."

Eric snorted. "A girlfriend? Why would he be hiding having a girlfriend?"

"Because he's Callen."

Eric momentarily regarded the tall man. "Are you worried that she might not be who she says she is?"

"Could you figure something out if I was?" Sam shot back.

Eric shook his head. "Look, I don't mind doing things behind Hetty's back… Well, not really. At least not when it involves a case. Nell wouldn't either. But I'm not going to put surveillance on Callen just because you want to know if he has a girlfriend. Have you tried talking to the guy?"

"Of course. He won't tell me anything."

Eric turned back to his screen. "In that case, he either doesn't want you to know yet, or there is simply nothing to know. But I'm not digging for you, Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam knew when he was being defeated and rose. "Thanks anyway, Eric."

The tech was already too immersed in his work to notice the agent leaving. However, Sam was not so easily giving up. His next stop was Deeks. Kensi and Callen had been sent on an undercover errand, so he and Deeks were stuck in the bullpen running trails.

"You find anything?" Deeks asked the moment he saw Sam descent the stairs.

Sam shook his head. "Eric didn't have anything yet, either."

Deeks shrugged and turned back to the screen. "Well, there's not much here either. I'm afraid we're going to have to wait until Callen and Kensi are back." He tossed the remote in the direction of his desk. "Do you want coffee?"

"Just water, please."

When Deeks came back, Sam leaned back in his chair. "Hey, you noticed something's off about Callen?"

"Off about Callen? Like he doesn't stay here until midnight anymore off?"

"Yeah, that too. But there's more. He's actually filled a desk drawer with tea leaves, Deeks. Tea leaves. Do you remember the last time he went out for drinks with us? Usually, he was the absolute last to leave and earliest to be here, but now I feel like he's out of here first and in last."

Knowing exactly what he was talking about, but not wanting to reveal that he actually knew more, Deeks turned to Sam. "So? He's taking up some personal interests. I believe he's taking cooking lessons at a bistro somewhere. He's into tea. Why does it bother you so much? The guy finally has a life."

Sam wasn't convinced. "Fine, he has a life. He doesn't talk about his life. Didn't you want to scream it of the rooftops when you and Kensi got together?"

"Not really." At Sam's confused expression, he continued. "I couldn't take the shot the first time, remember? So when we finally took the leap and started dating, I wanted to keep all of it to myself to prove you guys that I could be her boyfriend as well as her partner in the field. Besides, when has Callen ever spontaneously talked about his life? Why would he willingly start sharing information just because something's changed?"

"Because I'm his partner," Sam growled.

Deeks had to laugh. "Operating word being _partner_ , Sam, not _mother_. If he's got things to tell you, he'll tell you. But in his own time. No point in forcing him, it'll only make him shut you out."

Sam narrowed his eyes at the other agent. "You'd tell me if you knew more, right?"

"Maybe."

Another glare. "Maybe?"

Deeks wasn't fazed. "Maybe. If Callen really wanted you to know, you'd know. Perhaps he's still trying to figure out where it's going. You do remember that he even stonewalled you after the first date with Joelle, even though _you_ and Michelle were the ones who'd set him up, right?"

Sam had to give him that. "Yeah, I remember."

"So there you go."

With that, the conversation was over. Sam could hear Callen and Kensi's voices coming down the hall. Sam wasn't happy with what he'd gathered so far, though. They were all just telling him to stay out of it; like both Eric and Deeks knew more than they were letting on.

It stayed that way for a few more days. Him trying to coax information out of Callen, not succeeding, and the not succeeding starting to agitate. He decided to show up at his house unexpectedly one morning, coffee in hand, so he had an excuse. But Callen's car was nowhere to be seen, and he wasn't answering the door, so Sam cut his losses and went to work. Where he found Callen, sitting at his desk. "Where have you been? I went by your house to pick you up, and you weren't there. I even brought you coffee."

Callen raised an eyebrow at his partner. "What do you mean, where was I? I was up early, I decided to take a run and then I came here to finish up some paperwork." He frowned and held up his tea. "And you know I don't drink coffee anymore."

Sam scoffed. "One of these days you're gonna have to tell me who she is, G."

"Who she is?" Callen could still play dumb if he wanted to.

"There is something going on in your life, and you're excluding me. And I don't like it that you're excluding me."

Callen let himself fall in his chair. "Excluding you? Why do you figure that, Sam?"

"There is something you're not telling me. I can feel it. It's got to do with all those changes you've been making recently, and you're not sharing. The only reason that I can think of that you're making all those changes, is because you've got a girlfriend. Why keep her for yourself?"

"Why wouldn't I keep her for myself? She'd be _my_ girlfriend then, right?"

"True, but being in love is something positive to share."

"Well, you'll get an invitation to the wedding if it ever gets that far." Callen shook his head. "I can't believe we're still having this conversation. After _eight years_ , Sam."

"I only want you to be happy, G," Sam defended himself.

"Meddling isn't going to make me happy." Callen shot him a pointed look. "Keep out. If I have something to share, you'll know. Eventually."

And with that, their conversation was over and Sam was none the wiser.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for all the reviews and follows, everyone! :D Here's a surprise update, and you might even get another one next week. If I can get it written, anyway. ;-) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the window when the alarm went off. Hitting the snooze button, Grisha snuggled in closer to Dee, burying his nose in her neck. Dee smiled. "Isn't it time to get up?"

"Ten more minutes," he murmured.

So ten more minutes it was. Dee loved these moments in the early morning. They didn't have to jump out of bed the moment the alarm went off. It was a well-established morning ritual by now. Ten minutes later, they were up. Deja tied her hair in a ponytail. "You shower, me breakfast?"

Grisha pouted. "Not joining me?"

"Not if you want buttermilk pancakes for breakfast."

"Mmm…" Buttermilk pancakes had become a fast favorite breakfast item. "Throw in some blueberries and I'll let it slide."

"Done."

By the time he was out of the shower, she'd brushed her teeth, had gotten dressed and was downstairs in the kitchen, mixing batter. They tried to have breakfast together every morning, even when she had the early shift at _Indulge_ , especially since Grisha couldn't really say when he was done and there was no way of knowing whether they'd have dinner together. She made tea and threw the back door open for some fresh air, when she heard his voice from upstairs. "Dee, have you seen my watch?"

She rolled her eyes. Same story almost every morning. "Night stand? Dresser?" She threw a glance in the direction of the living room. "It's on the coffee table."

A few moments later he was downstairs, buttoning his shirt. "How is it that I always displace my watch?"

Setting the teapot on the table, she shook her head. "I don't know. It's like your keys. We have a perfectly good bowl right next to the front door to keep things like that in, but do you ever use it?"

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. "Yeah, but why use it when you can tell me where I've left them?"

"The whole point of having a designated place is that I _don't_ have to tell them where you've left them."

Sighing, he pressed a kiss to the bare skin where her shoulder and neck met. "Fine. I'll try and keep them in the same place, but I'm not making any promises."

"I know." She handed him plates and a bowl of blueberries. "You want honey or maple syrup?"

"Maple syrup."

Within a minute, they were sitting at the table. Grisha leafing through the paper and Dee through a food magazine. "When exactly are your parents coming?" Grisha asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Swallowing her bite, Dee looked up. "About that… They've pushed the date back a bit. They're not coming until the end of April, instead of halfway through."

"Something with your Grandmother?"

"Oh no, Nanna's fine. Something about Dad's work. He's got some important meetings in Amsterdam first that he can't push back, so they're doing that first and then coming over here."

"What exactly is it that your dad does?" He wasn't sure anymore they'd covered that yet. If they had, he couldn't remember.

"CEO of Airbus. He has one of his board meetings, then he and Mom decided to stay a week in Amsterdam and then fly up to LA. Which delays their arrival by a week. Mom was talking about the 27th, I think."

For a moment, Grisha stared at her. "Your dad is CEO of Airbus?"

"He is."

"And your mother?"

She added more walnuts and blueberries to her pancakes. "My mother… She used to work as the event manager of the Hilton in London; that's how she met my dad. Now she manages their apartment in London and every party she hosts there." Smiling, she reached for her teacup. "She takes care of Nanna now, too."

He let all of it sink in for a moment. "Does that mean that you're used to private jets and hotel suites? Because I'm not entirely sure we're ever going to able to afford that."

Surprised, she shook her head. "I haven't seen a private jet in fifteen years, and I prefer a small scale B&B over a hotel suite any day." Reaching over, she squeezed his hand. "I'm perfectly happy with what we have. Don't worry about not being able to afford luxuries like private jets and hotel suites. Don't need them. I have you, which is way better than all of that combined."

He seemed to take her word for it. "Okay."

"Okay." She took the last bite of her breakfast, and put her fork down.

"We should have them over for dinner." He wasn't even sure why he was suggesting that. Never having met future in-laws before, he wasn't sure what to expect.

"We will." She nudged his shoulder as they loaded up the dishwasher. "Have a good day at work, babe. You coming to the café tonight?"

He let himself be guided to the door, picking up his bag and putting his gun in the waistband of his jeans. "I'll let you know. There might be things today, and otherwise I should be home at a sort of decent hour."

"One of these days you're going to have to tell me what exactly it is you do," she said, handing him his lunch.

He'd been thinking about that, too. He had to talk to Hetty. Of course he couldn't show her Ops, but maybe he could take her to the boat shed to give her some idea of what it was he did. He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. "I'm working on it. It's not that easy to explain without giving up a few secrets that I'm bound to keep."

Dee could understand that. "Well, as long as you do your best to come back to me, I'm not going to be too worried."

One last kiss and he was on the other side of the door. "Oh, trust me babe, you're the reason why I pay extra attention every day."

"Good. Be careful, I love you."

He smiled, never bored with hearing that. "One of these days I'm going to tell you that."

That grin he loved so much lit up her face. "I know. Now, go!"

"See you tonight." He caught the kiss she blew him and disappeared into the car. He hadn't thought she'd been all that serious about introducing him to her parents, but apparently, she was. And it scared the hell out of him.


	19. Chapter 19

Hi! Another five minute gap in between work. ;-) Enjoy while they last this month. The big reveal to Kensi. BTW: remember Dee's comment about the private jets in the last chapter? It's been ten years. :O

Dramamama5: Great prompt. Won't have time to wrap my head around it as long as NOL is running. So, if you're willing to wait that long, remind me when this one is done. ;-)

* * *

He was biting back pain and hissed when the nurse removed his jacket. "That hurts."

The nurse, whose nametag read Janet, wasn't impressed. "Of course it does, dear." She inspected his shoulder. "Dr. Wilson will probably make a X-ray to be sure, but I think it's broken."

Callen groaned. Exactly what he needed. A broken shoulder. If that damned suspect had just stopped moving, he wouldn't have run into that car and landed on the wrong spot in his shoulder. It meant that he was not working for the next couple of weeks. It meant a sling. It meant moving in with Dee for at least six weeks. That last part, he didn't mind so much. All the other things, he could do without.

Kensi stuck her head around the curtain. "Is it bad?"

Janet looked up. "She with you?"

"Yeah." He grimaced as he shifted on the bed. "How's Sam?"

"Fine. He's mad about that suspect getting away, but he always is. Deeks is taking him back to Ops." She sank down in the chair next to him. "What happened? One moment you two were yelling my ear, next I hear is someone going down and Sam panicking. You disappeared instantly."

"That fool decided to make a run for it. So we started chasing him into the alley, Sam going around back and me running after him. I didn't see the car until it was too late. Landed on my shoulder, and according to Janet here, in the wrong spot."

Kensi looked up to the nurse. "Is it broken?"

"Dr. Wilson will have to make sure, but I think so."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it." He wasn't looking forward to painkillers at all. Or the sling. "Think Hetty will let me take a cab to work?"

Laughing, Kensi shook her head. "I'm afraid that you're going to have to take it easy. Don't think Hetty is going to let you in at all." Then she seemed to realize something. "Where are you going to stay? Do you need to stay with us?"

Callen liked how she was going into complete protective mode when it came to any of them. He shook his head. "Thanks, Kens, but I'll be fine."

That wasn't going to get him off the hook. He could hope, though, but judging by the look on Kensi's face, he was going to have to tell her more than that. "Where are you going to stay?"

Mentally flinching, waiting for her outburst, he said three words. "With my girlfriend." When he carefully opened one eye, Kensi was staring at him. "Kens?"

"You have a girlfriend?"

He could hear Janet chuckle behind him and rolled his eyes. "It is a possibility, you know."

"I know." She was baffled. "How long have you been dating her?"

"Since November."

Calculating, Kensi wanted to jab his shoulder, but settled for his thigh instead. "Six months! You've been dating her for six months and not a word?!"

"Deeks knows," he defended himself. "And Hetty knows. Hetty has met her."

Another moment of complete silence. "Deeks knows? You told him?"

He shook his head. "I didn't tell him. He guessed. He's good at detecting. Seeing things that others don't."

"He was a great detective."

"Yeah. So, he guessed. Then I just had to tell him, you know. He even helped me with my Valentine's Day thing."

Something else dawned. "That is where that French dish came from."

"The ratatouille." He flinched again as he settled back against the cushions. "Yeah, that was made by me. I cooked for her."

Kensi's expression softened. "Callen… That is really sweet."

"I try. Anyway, Deeks helped with getting the food right. I bought candles, table linen and crystal wine glasses, because she loves a properly set table and I made a small thing of it." He smiled. "And yes, that does mean that I have a dining table and chairs."

Kensi grinned. "Okay, back up. Tell me everything. What's her name? Where'd you meet her? What's she like?" She too, settled back in her chair.

"Promise me you won't tell Sam. I swear, if Sam finds out, this whole thing I have with her will be hijacked, as Deeks put it, and I'm not doing the same as happened with Joelle."

Kensi put her hand over her heart. "I promise."

Put at ease, Callen continued. "Good. Her name is Deja, she owns a café called _Indulge_ downtown and she's great. We met when I went to eat at the café, a few days after that case with Nadir. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but we started hanging out, then started dating. She's kind, and feisty, and she doesn't take any crap from me. I can't even stonewall her like I do with Nate, or with Sam and Hetty… She sees right through me. She's the first person that looks at me and doesn't see Callen, with his crazy past and dangerous job. She sees me; the guy who's scared to death about relationships and making any kind of commitment because everybody he's ever loved either died or went away. And so far, it hasn't scared her yet and I can tell you, I'm the most grateful man that walks this earth because of it. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense." Kensi smiled encouragingly at him. "She sounds special."

"Oh, Kens, I can't even tell how special she is." His head fell back against his pillow. "I can't figure out why I haven't scared her away yet."

"Hey." Kensi took his good hand in his. "Of course you haven't scared her away. She'd be crazy if she let you go. You're smart and witty and loyal and protective to anyone important to you… You're a good man, Callen. So you have a few demons in your closet. Who doesn't? I know Deeks and I have our fair share of crazy things. If she really loves you, she sees right through that and decides to stay anyway."

He softly squeezed the hand holding his. "God, I hope so."

Kensi tried to swallow the lump in her throat. That was the most information he'd ever willingly shared with her about himself, about his private life. If that didn't give away how happy he was with this relationship, the look on his face did.

"Have you told her about the job? I know that's why Joelle left." Her voice was soft, as if she wanted to soften the blow her words might cause.

He turned his head to her. "No. I've been trying to figure out how to tell her."

"Are you afraid she's going to leave?"

Biting his lower lip, he started shaking his head. "No. Maybe. My gut tells me that she'll stay, but I'm afraid to trust that feeling." Which was no surprise. Sobering up, he chuckled. "She wants to introduce me to her parents when they come to visit end of the month."

"Good luck." It was out of her mouth before she could think about it. "You'll be fine."

"You think so? I've never met parents before. It scares the hell out of me."

Letting go of his hand, Kensi leant back in her chair. "I know. It scared the hell out of me too, meeting Roberta. But you know, she's more like Marty than I gave her credit for. And Marty I fell in love with." She winked. "What's the worst thing that could happen? They don't like you. They don't have to spend the rest of their lives with you, Deja does. It's sweet of you to worry, but you're a great guy, and you have nothing to worry about."

Nodding, he closed his eyes to let that information sink in. Maybe Kensi was right. Maybe he didn't have anything to worry about. Then again… "Her dad is CEO of Airbus."

"And?"

"I'll never make that kind of money."

Shaking her head, Kensi laughed. "Why are you men so worried about money?"

"What do you mean?"

"Remember that case we did last year where I came home in a 3000 dollar Balmain dress?" At his nod, she went on. "Deeks said the exact same thing to me. We'll never have the kind of money that buys me a Balmain dress. And you know what? I like my jeans and T-shirts better. Did you mention this to her?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

"That she hasn't seen a private jet in ten years and prefers a B&B over a hotel suite."

"There's your answer."

It couldn't be that simple, could it? "But… Are you sure?"

Again, Kensi took his hand and squeezed it. "Callen… Listen carefully. If she's happy with what she has, why worry about having more? You two are perfectly capable of providing for us. Do not doubt our words for a moment, all right?" The more she heard about Deja, the more Kensi liked her. He'd done great picking a girlfriend, and he'd done so all by himself. Like Deeks had learned her to open up more, apparently Deja had done so with Callen.

Janet stuck her head back around the curtain. "I'm just checking your paperwork, dear. Is there a first name attached to that letter G?"

Without thinking, he answered. "It's Grisha. Initials GAN."

"Thank you." Janet scribbled something down. "Dr. Wilson will be with you in a moment."

It wasn't until he realized that it was awfully quiet in the seat next to him, that he looked back at Kensi. Her expression was somewhere between surprise and utter shock. "Kens? What is it?"

"You actually have a first name now?"

Oh, right. He was so used to it that he didn't hesitate anymore when someone asked him about his name. "I do," he confirmed. "It's Grisha. I even met my dad when we went back for Arkady last year. He told me."

If this day was going to bring any more surprises, Kensi wasn't sure she was going to cope. "Oh, finally! You finally have a name!"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, I finally have a name. No using it around the office, though. Save it for private settings, please."

Kensi eyed him for a minute, and then nodded in silent understanding. "Got it."

"Thanks."

Their conversation was temporarily halted when Dr. Wilson arrived to take a look at his shoulder. An hour later, he was standing outside with Kensi by his side, arm in a sling and a receipt for painkillers that would probably send him into next year.

"Where do I take you?"

"I take it the office is not an option at this point?"

Kensi shook her head. "Hetty called and said to take you wherever you said. As long as it's not the office."

"Right." He saw it coming from miles ahead. "Take me to the café, then. No point in going to the house if I can't do anything myself."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And you can rest there?"

"Yes, little sister, I can rest." He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "Dee lives over the café. If it gets too much, I'll be in bed within a minute."

"Okay."

Half an hour later, Callen walked into the front door, Kensi on his heels. Jess was standing behind the bar. "What happened to you?"

"Tiny car accident. Dee around?"

Jess went to get Deja from the kitchen, who came rushing after her friend. One look at him and her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

After making sure he was okay, and being introduced to Kensi, she locked eyes with him. "We need to talk."


	20. Chapter 20

Hi! I'm sorry for not getting back to (most) of you personally, I simply don't have the time. As soon as that's possible, I'll get to it, I promise. So, on with _the_ talk. About his job, I mean. And another surprise along the way, too.

Caro, I keep repeating myself, but thanks for all the help and feedback. Best sparring partner ever. :-)

* * *

They were upstairs in her living room. Kensi was on her way back to Ops and Grisha was talking to Dee about how he'd ended up at NCIS in the first place. Where his scars came from. Why he had them. Why he chose this line of work. That he loved his job, but that he could understand that it might be too much for her to handle, because it meant that there might be a day that he wasn't coming home.

Dee sat in her chair, asking questions, listening to him talk, sipping tea. She wasn't surprised that he did what he did. A lot of things made sense now. How he always checked their surroundings wherever they went. Checking for backdoors and emergency exits. Carrying a gun no matter where he went.

Finally, he stopped talking, not really looking at her.

"Just to make sure: every morning that I let you go, could be the last time that I see you? That I get to tell you that I love you?"

"Technically, yes."

"Is it just me then or do you have one of the most dangerous jobs out there?"

He took a breath. "Probably. But somebody has to…"

Dee held up her hand. "Stop defending yourself right there." Scooting closer, she took his head in her hands and met his eyes, as she had done months before when he'd shown her the house. "Grisha… Baby. Look at me. _Stop_ expecting me to run. I'm here. I'm in this for the long haul. Yes, you have a dangerous job. And yes, I'll worry more about you when I kick you out of the door in the morning. But it's the job you chose, the one you're good at. It suits you. No need to defend yourself for being who you are. I love you."

Grisha searched her eyes for any sign that her feelings contradicted her words, but he found nothing. She meant business. She meant every word she said. "Are you sure? Because I might get injured, or hurt, worse than I am right now. I might have to travel for a while. And one day I might not even come home, no matter how hard I try." He didn't want to scare her off, but he was trying to be realistic. Okay, maybe he was trying to scare her off. A part of him still expected her to run. Like Joelle had. Like every other girlfriend in the past had.

"All the more reason to make every day count." Deja kissed him. "I mean it, Grisha, stop expecting me to run. I won't. Not now. Not ever. I'll worry. Let me worry. It's part of my job as your girlfriend to worry. But don't expect me to go running. I won't. I'm staying right here."

He tried blinking tears away, but one stubbornly went rolling down his cheek. "Why? Why do you choose to stay when there are so many other guys out there? Why me?"

"Because you are great. You're a gentleman, you're smart, and loyal and you make me laugh like no one else has. You're honest, and kind, and I see you struggle every day with facing your fears head on, no matter how much they scare you." She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, but like him, didn't completely succeed either. "Because with you I finally get to be me, instead of feeling like a trophy. Because with you I don't have to worry about handing you my heart and getting it destroyed in the process, because I see you trying to be a better man every single day. For me." She laughed through her tears. "I'm actually glad you've told me about your job. I have to tell you something, too."

He frowned, not sure what to expect. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, she started. "Ted probably told you that I've been hurt before, right?"

"New Years Eve." An uneasy feeling was creeping up on him.

"Yeah." She swallowed, plucking at some none existing lint on his arm. "I've been married before. A long time ago, already. Ten years. To Kevin. Kevin was the total opposite of you. He was charming in his own right, but he was self absorbed, egotistical, a bully. At first I didn't really think any of it, you know, being young and naïve. He was the son of a businessman my father knew. To make a long story short, we fell in love, got married. It wasn't until a year after the wedding Kevin showed his real self." She took another breath. "You know those scars I have on my lower back? It's from when Kevin shoved me into the hall mirror, breaking it into a million pieces. Some of them ended in my back. He's hit me more times than I care to count, he's beaten me with things… At first, I thought that if I tried harder, if I'd be a better wife, he'd see that his behavior wasn't right, that he'd stop. Like I said, I was young and naïve."

Grisha swallowed. It was a good thing that he couldn't do anything without his arm; otherwise he'd be out the door and on his way to Ops, to tell Nell to find this guy so he could beat him to a pulp.

"After three years, I finally understood that I deserved better. I went back to my parents for a while, got the divorce started. But he'd hurt me, real bad, Grisha, in so many ways…" Biting her lip, she shook her head to clear it of the memories. "I might look like I'm this upbeat, overly positive person who doesn't have anything to hide, but even I have my secrets."

"Then why did you try again? A relationship? Love?"

"For the same reason you did. Because I want to be loved. Because deep down inside I still believed that there is someone out there that can love me the way I am supposed to be loved. Like you. It's the way people are programmed. We all need to be loved."

He still didn't completely understand. "Why try with me?"

"There was something about you that felt trustworthy from the first moment that I met you. And as you now know, that means a lot, coming from me." Dee squeezed his hand. "You're nothing like Kevin. Nor will you ever be."

Something resonated with him. "The gun… Oh my god, Dee, the gun must've scared the hell out of you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I want to trust you. And we have to fight our own demons. You wouldn't have been ready to tell me then, Grisha, like I haven't been ready to tell you this until now. So I tried to take it slow and see where all this was going to go, and give over to that trust."

He knew she was right. If she'd pushed, he'd have run in the other direction without looking back. But now, he knew that he loved her. And he'd do anything to show her every day that he loved her. Gathering her close with his good arm, he kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

She giggled, wiping tears away. "You do?"

"Oh god, Dee… Yes, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you." Why had this been so hard? He loved her. He always would. "Because you dare to be yourself around me, and you want to trust and you still want to love and you help me be a better person every day. For trusting me with your secrets, few as they may be, compared to mine. I love you."

"I love you too, Grisha."

For a while, they sat there, not saying anything. Then Dee pulled away. "Look at us," she smiled. "Two people who are trying to get life right. You get now why I said that I don't care about the luxuries in life? I've had the luxuries for longer than I care to remember, but the situation was all wrong. I prefer your house, and this apartment and the safe places we created there together over any of those luxuries I've had."

Now he understood. "I understand." After a pause, he added: "You do know that I'll never, ever raise a hand against you, Dee? I'll never physically or emotionally hurt you? I need you to know that." He was practically begging her to grasp that. He'd rather kill himself than ever raise a hand against her.

Taking his hand, she nodded. "With the job you do, keeping this part of the world safe for all of us? You're not that person, Grisha. I know that. I can feel it."

"I love you."

She'd never get tired of hearing that. "I love you, too."


	21. Chapter 21

At this point, there's no schedule to updating whatsoever. :O Hope you're all still following along. Thanks to those who have reviewed. You make my day!

Caroline: Sorry to hear you feel that way. The reason Grisha was finally able to say _I love you_ was not because of her story. It was not because of what she went through with Kevin. It was because he realizes that she trusts him for who he is, not for who he pretends to be. Telling her about his job has been a huge hurdle from the beginning, because his job is what has cost him so many relationships in the past, and who was to say that she was going to stay? So now that his biggest secret is out, and she's told him what was for her the greatest leap of faith, he's understanding that the only way you can have a relationship is, if it's based on honesty. Dee has been very open about her feelings from the beginning; that's the way she is. Grisha is not an open book. He's getting there, but he's still a far cry from it. The conversation between them you read in the last chapter was about trust. And now that he's trusted her with his biggest secret and she's still here, _that_ is why he said I love you. Because he doesn't have to be afraid of her running out on him anymore. Does that make sense?

* * *

Kensi put her phone down and looked at her fiancé. "Maybe we should go check on him."

Deeks looked up from scratching Monty behind his ears. "Are you that worried about him?"

She shrugged. "The tension was palpable when I left. And you know how not good he is with his emotions and telling her about the job is so important to him. I just want to make sure they're okay."

Knowing that Kensi was not usually this openly concerned, he got up and nodded. "Of course. Can we take Monty?"

"Worst case scenario is that one of us stays out on the terrace."

"Works for me." Taking Monty's leash, he followed Kensi out.

There was another girl standing behind the bar when Kensi entered Indulge. "Hi, are Ca… Grisha and Deja around?" His name needed some getting used to.

Keira shook her head and put her dishtowel down. "Deja took him back home. She's not here on a Saturday anyway."

"Thanks." One last look around and Kensi joined Deeks and Monty outside again. "They've gone back to his house. Let's make a pit stop there, then?"

Deeks nodded and followed her along. A while later, they were knocking on the door. Deeks let his gaze wonder over the front yard. "Is it me, or does it look cleaned up and trimmed out here?"

Kensi followed his gaze. "It does. It's a whole lot less of a jungle." When she heard the door, she turned back to the sound.

For a moment, the brunette seemed surprised and slightly guarded, until she seemed to recognize one of them. "Kensi, right?"

"Hi." Kensi had obviously not expected Deja to be the one opening the door. "I'm sorry to show up unannounced. Callen around as well?"

Deja stepped back to let them in. "Of course. Come on in." She smiled down at Monty. "Your dog?"

"This is Monty. He's usually over enthusiastic, so don't mind him." As she was talking, Kensi's eyes roamed the living room. Apparently, he'd made some changes. There was actually place to sit, now. "And this is my fiancé Marty Deeks. He's on the team, too."

Dee shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. It's nice to have faces by names, finally."

"Likewise," Deeks said. "I've heard a lot about you, but you know Callen… Awfully private and all."

"Make yourselves at home; he's upstairs, I'll go see if he's up yet."

That set an alarm off by the both of them. "You don't have to wake him on our behalf, if he's still resting," Kensi hurried to say. "We just wanted to make sure he was all right."

"Don't worry about it. Almost dinner time anyway, so he's going to have to wake up sooner or later." She paused for single moment. "Wanted to make sure I'd still be here, huh?"

Kensi didn't have time to respond as she disappeared up the stairs to the second floor. She turned to Deeks. "Something I said?"

"Nope. I think she's as sharp as a razor. She's got good people skills." Deeks looked around. "She's more gorgeous than he's let on."

"She is."

"More observant probably too."

"Probably."

"Great cook."

"Wouldn't know. Doesn't take much to be better than the two of us."

"There's actually place to sit here. Things." He studied the books on the shelves. "Cookbooks, novels, those grammar books Callen uses... Different languages as well."

They heard rummaging upstairs, and Deja came back down. "Give him a few moments to clean up," she winked. "I'm sorry about that comment. I'm actually excited that you're here. It's nice to know you two care enough to come and check on him."

Kensi had to admit she hadn't been completely wrong in her assumption that they were there to check that she still was, too. She hadn't expected to be called out on it, though. "We do. He's like my big brother. We really just wanted to see that he's all right."

"I'm fine." Grisha managed some sort of smile as he struggled with his sling. "Dee…"

"Yeah, I got it." Dee moved to his side, tugging at his sling to get it into place. "Painkillers worked out again?"

"Something like that."

She cupped his cheek and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Why don't you guys sit down somewhere so you can catch up? Can I get you anything to drink?"

Marty eyed his friend. "Are you sure you're up for it? We don't have to stay, we just wanted…"

"Deeks, I'm fine. It's really good to see you. And I know for sure Dee would be slightly insulted if you don't stay."

Rolling her eyes, Dee nodded. "He's sort of right. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, but…"

Grisha laughed. "Oh, now you're totally staying. She _will_ be insulted if you don't." He turned to Dee. "Out back? Iced tea?"

"Iced tea okay with you?" Dee was already two steps into the kitchen. "Out back will be perfect. Do I bring water for Monty as well?"

Taking a moment to process what was happening, Marty grinned. "Kens, we're being bullied into staying. Might as well make the most of it. Iced tea would be great and Monty would love some water."

They followed Grisha outside to the garden. Kensi blinked. "I'm sorry… Who are you and what have you done to my friend?"

Slowly dropping himself in a chair, Grisha shook his head at her. "I do evolve, you know. You haven't been around to see it all, but life's good. She's great. She's here."

Kensi took in the scenery out back. There had obviously been some landscaping done. New tiling, in the back a pergola with lounge chairs under it, pots and plants filled with herbs and vegetables, and even a grill. Although the garden wasn't huge, it all fit perfectly and looked inviting and cozy. "When did this happen? If I didn't know better, you're putting down roots and actually enjoying it."

"Maybe." He wasn't committing to anything yet. "Most of it is Dee, though. She insisted on an outdoor grill and planting herbs."

Dee, who was within earshot, chuckled. "He's saying that as if he didn't like that idea. You're the one who said we needed to do something with the yard. I only gave suggestions." She put a trade with iced tea and bruschetta on the table. "I'll be right back with Monty's water."

Marty silently watched as Grisha's eyes followed her retreating form. Judging by their body language, Kensi had worried about nothing. They were at ease with each other, their bodies inching towards each other when they were close. The way Grisha's eyes followed her everywhere.

She came back with a bowl, bottle of water and his pills. Silently, she dropped in the chair next to Grisha and handed him the pills, screwing the cap off the bottle. "I have to say, it's nice to finally meet some others on his team. I can't tell you how grateful I am that he has people watching over him."

Kensi's eyes traveled between them, still a bit unsure about this whole domestic side of Grisha she was witnessing. "Most of it is Sam, but we try to keep each other safe," she said.

"Still. It's great to have names with faces now. He's been telling me some of it, and I've met Hetty, but until now, you've been only names. Having faces always works better for remembering," she added, filling glasses.

That was a surprise. "You've met Hetty?"

"We had her over for dinner a while back. She seems lovely, if you stay on her good side. Don't think I want to find out what it's like on her bad side."

Marty laughed. "No, you don't. Tiny as she is, she can do more damage than an earthquake and hurricane combined when need be."

"I figured." Dee leaned back into her chair. "Guys, do try the bruschetta. It's a new recipe, and if I go back to work on Sunday, I need an unbiased opinion."

"My opinion not unbiased anymore?"

Affectionately, she patted his knee. "Hate to say it babe, but no, not entirely. You'll eat anything I put in front of you."

Giving up, Grisha shrugged. "Fine."

They talked about his injury and nothing in particular until Dee rose a few moments later. "I need to do the last few things for dinner, do stay here. I'll be done in a little while." Her eyes traveled to her boyfriend. "You still comfortable? You need anything?"

He shook his head. "You'll spoil me rotten with attention if you keep this up, babe."

Lifting one shoulder, she squeezed his hand. "Somebody has to. Be back in a little bit." With one last wink, she disappeared inside.

When she was out of earshot, Grisha turned to their guests. "Okay guys, spill. She knows you're sitting on eggshells here. She's a better people reader than I am, by far. What is it?"

Marty and Kensi exchanged looks. "Hetty approved of her?"

"Yeah."

"You've told her about the job?"

"Everything that isn't classified."

Marty blew his breath out. "Wow."

"Look, I know that first hurdle of telling her about the job was a big one, but once I had that out of the way, everything else came easier. Not easy, but easier."

Another look passed between them. "She seems really great."

"She is." He shifted in his seat. "Stay for dinner. Get to know her. _Don't_ interrogate her, she's not a suspect, she's an ally. And for heaven's sake, be yourselves. I'm still the same guy you work with. That hasn't changed."

"Says the guy who didn't own furniture until a few months back," Kensi shot back. "Seriously? When did all this happen? You actually went furniture shopping? You have a furnished garden now, too? Your house is more 'done' than ours is."

"You want the grand tour?"

"There's a grand tour available?"

"Hey, as long as Dee is in the kitchen, there's time before dinner." He pushed himself up out of his chair and groaned. "Sometimes I think that getting shot didn't hurt as much as a broken shoulder does."

Marty told Monty to stay put, but the mutt, who was lying somewhere in the shade, didn't even think about moving. He was comfortable just where he was.

Grisha took them through the house: the living room where they'd come in, the kitchen with its lovely smells, the dining room where Dee was setting the table. Then upstairs, the bedroom with its sky blue painted walls, and the two undesignated rooms, which were for storage, as far as they needed it. And the whole time, he was talking about 'we' and 'us', with a happy and content expression on his face.

"Grisha?"

They were standing in the hall, when Dee called from downstairs. Immediately, his attention shifted from their guests to where she was. "What is it?"

"Dinner is ready when you are?"

"On our way."

Marty looked from Kensi to Grisha and back. "Hold on. You actually have a first name now?"

Slightly confused, Grisha started to nod, then grinned. "You haven't told him?"

Kensi shook her head. "I figured you needed to tell him yourself."

Holding out his hand to Marty, he smiled. Confused, Marty took it. "Grisha Callen. Great to meet you."

Before Marty had registered what he was doing, he'd wrapped his arms carefully around Grisha and hugged him. "He has a name! After all these years, he has a name!"

"Marty! Careful!" Kensi tried to let Marty go of his friend. "You're hurting him!"

Finally, the two men let go of each other. Dee, who'd come rushing up the stairs, leaned against the railing, arms crossed, concern in her eyes. "Everything okay?"

Grisha turned to her, a huge smile on his face. "Marty just found out what my first name is."

Her eyes narrowed at his words; then something clicked. "You haven't told your co-workers what your name is?"

"I didn't know until a few weeks before we met."

Her facial expression didn't tell their guests what she thought of those words, but Grisha could see it in her eyes. "There's a story there that you're going to tell me over dinner. Come on, everything is getting cold."

Dinner passed with ease conversation; about Dee, about how Kensi and Marty had met, about how Grisha had finally found out his name. After dinner treats consisted of homemade éclairs and Snicker doodles. If Dee hadn't won Kensi over with her personality yet, the treats would've made the difference.

The easy banter between Grisha and Dee wasn't lost on both agents, who were still silently observing. Dee was nothing but loving and affectionate towards him, and it made him be the same to her. By the end of the night, as they were walking to their car, both agents were put at ease that Dee was here to stay.

Marty wrapped his arm around Kensi's shoulder. "What do you think?"

"She's even more awesome than I thought she was going to be."

That, coming from Kensi, meant a lot. "Yeah, I'm guessing she's a keeper."

"I hope so. I've never seen him so comfortable with someone before. Not even with Joelle. He's so…" She struggled to find the word.

"Loved," Marty added. "He's loved and I think that for the first time in his life, he's letting himself _be_ loved."

Opening the car door to let Monty in, Kensi thought about those words. "You're right. He's told her everything. He's even letting her have a say in what he's doing with the house, decoration wise. In all the time he was dating Joelle, I don't think Joelle even had seen the house. Deja is practically living there."

Marty agreed. "I don't think she's going to move out again, when he gets better." He chuckled. "If we don't hurry, he might be married before we are."

Kensi stuck her tongue out at him. "Nah, he won't go that fast. Let him share his house first, that is a big step as it is for him." She turned the key and started the engine.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"Sam still doesn't know any of it."

The words rang in her ears. _Sam still doesn't know any of it._ Silently, she squeezed Marty's hand, at a loss for words. Marty squeezed back, saying out loud what she was thinking. "Yeah, I'm honored, too, Kens."


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for reviewing, everyone! Here's the next chapter! Btw, don't think I will be able to update next week. My left shoulder is inflated, which means that I can only type with my right. Since that's not going very fast, I won't have another chapter ready. Hope to see you in two weeks!

* * *

"Babe, stop fidgeting."

His hand stilled above his sling. "How do you know that?"

"I know you."

"You're on the phone. You can't even see me."

Dee shifted gears and turned a corner. "You have that distracted tone again. It means you're fidgeting. Stop being nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about. They'll love you."

"I don't have anything to offer you."

Sighing, Dee shook her head, knowing he'd pick up on it. "Babe, we've been over this. I don't care about the luxuries. I've got all I ever wanted. My parents are going to be happy because I am happy."

"We can't tell them about my job."

"You work in security."

"What are they going to say about my past?"

"They're going to admire that you've made something of yourself, despite everything that's happened."

"What are they going to think of the house?"

"They'll love the house because we love the house."

"My arm?"

"Anybody can have an accident." She parked the car and turned the engine off. "Grisha, stop putting yourself down. There's nothing to be ashamed of." She muttered something he didn't get.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He wasn't going to get her get away with it. "No, what?"

Taking a chance, she came out with it. "Start living up to the image of the husband that I have in my head, okay? He looks exactly like you, but with a bit more confidence."

That startled him. Husband? She honestly thought he was husband material? "Husband? Me?"

"Love of my life, husband, father of my children. Preferably all three."

He could hear her smile. "Okay." He could live with that. "Okay." If she thought that highly of him, maybe it was time that he started to believe in himself a bit more, too. His worries put at ease, for now, he let her go. "Go and get your parents. I'll go downstairs and see if Jess can use my help. Or at least, my company."

"You do that. Make yourself useful for a change." Looking up, she handed her car keys over to the valet and went inside. "I'll see you in a little bit. I'll be home in time for lunch. We'll do dinner with them tomorrow."

"Yes." The next words out of his mouth were becoming a habit. "Be careful. I love you."

"I love you, too." With a smile, she disconnected the phone and greeted the receptionist. "Good morning, Frank."

"Good morning, Ms. Barrow. How are you?"

"Wonderful, Frank, thank you." Toying with her sunglasses in one hand, she straightened her skirt with the other. "Did they have a good trip?"

"According to your mother, everything was lovely. She seemed well rested."

"Yes, well, my mother is not one to worry about things, except for me. How was papa?"

"Mr. Barrow seemed a bit stressed, but I believe that everything was better this morning. They're having breakfast on the patio."

Deja nodded, taking the key card he offered. "Still the Stone Canyon suite, Frank?"

"As always, Ms. Barrow."

Fondly, she reached over and tapped his hand. "Thank you for the wonderful service, as always. I'll go and greet them."

As she found her way down the familiar halls, she shook her head at the extravagance of it all. Her parents always stayed in the same suite, in the same hotel, for as long as they'd been coming here. And as much as she wanted to see her parents, and as much as she was familiar with the hotel and its people, she'd much rather be at home, in their garden, for breakfast. This wasn't her anymore.

Opening the door with her card, she wondered through the suite over to where her parents were sitting, outside. Her father, as always, buried in the London Times, ever the Brit, and her mother with her face up at the sun.

For a moment, she savored the peaceful picture her parents presented and grinned, shaking her head. It was always good to see them in the flesh. "Good morning," she softly said, approaching them.

Her mother's eyes popped open and she was out of her chair before Deja could step out of her way. "Hija!"

The rapid conversation about how she was, and the inspection of her appearance that followed in quick Spanish, were lost on her father. Even after almost thirty-five years, he'd never completely mastered Spanish. Especially not in the tempo her mother was speaking. So she told her mother about the basics and then went over to her father.

"Good morning, papa."

Alistair Barrow wrapped his daughter in a short hug. "Good morning, darling." Keeping her at arm's length, he inspected her. "You look wonderful. Every bit your mother."

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Thank you." Inspecting the overloaded breakfast table, her eyes rested on the teapot. "Is there some tea left? I've had breakfast, but tea would be great."

"Of course."

Her father pulled her chair out and she sat down. "Did you have a good trip? How was Amsterdam?"

Maria Barrow let her husband do the talking as she poured tea for her daughter. The two weeks they usually spent in LA always were too short. Of course they tried to find time to Skype and FaceTime, but seeing her live was always such a treat. Her eyes were happy, and calm, which was always a good indicator of how she felt. They had been like this for months now, and Maria could only be grateful. Maybe there was finally someone in her life that deserved her.

Finally, Alistair put his cup down. "And what about you, darling? How have you been? How is everything at the café? Still not tired of it?" he teased, knowing that his daughter was probably never going back to London.

Deja traced the rim of her cup and shook her head. "Still not tired of it. It's still exciting and I still love the weather around here, and the people. Lindy is still my best friend and business is booming." She took another sip. "How's Nanna?"

"Still strong. Hoping to see you sooner rather than later."

"She always does. Maybe we can take ten days at the end of the summer, but I'm not making any promises."

Her mother caught on. "We?" she prompted.

Deja felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I said that, huh?" It had become such habit around other people to include Grisha, that she had stopped noticing. Taking a deep breath, she put her cup down on its saucer. "I've met someone." Maria's smile encouraged her to continue. "I've met someone, and I haven't mentioned it because I wanted to see if it was going to be serious."

"Is it? Going to be serious?"

Her face barely contained her smile. "Yes, it's getting pretty serious."

Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. "Engagement serious?"

"Moving in together serious," she said. "Which, considering we've only been dating since November is a thing."

Maria nodded as she took in her daughters posture. Her eyes were calm, her smile was radiant, her voice happy. Of course she'd had the feeling something was going on in her daughter's life, but she decided that Deja had to be comfortable enough telling her. So now she was.

"Where have you met him?"

"At the café. He came in to eat, and he was so touched by the borsjst that it opened a sort of conversation. He started coming regularly after that, and one thing led to another." More blushing. Then she sobered up. "One thing, though." She shifted in her seat and faced her father.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Promise me you'll keep an open mind? He's nervous about meeting you, about wanting to make a good impression. I keep having the same conversation with him about how he thinks he's not good enough for me and…"

"Is he?" her father interjected. "Is he good enough for you?"

Not missing a beat, she answered. "He's more than I dared to dream about."

His father was not as easily convinced as Maria was. Call it old fashioned, but Alistair Barrow was raised to respect women by his father and his grandfathers. Kevin Paulson had failed miserably. From the moment that Deja had filed for divorce, Alistair had been extra cautious about his only daughter's whereabouts and friends. He just wanted her to be happy. Happy and with someone he could be certain was not going to treat her like her ex-husband had. "Then why the open mind?"

Her heart still clenched whenever she thought about all that Grisha had endured. "His upbringing was less than ideal. He's done a lot to overcome all that, and he's turned out this gorgeous, wonderful, kind human being. But it's left him with a sense of insecurity about himself, and I fear that he'll either put up a front, or that he'll respond to questions differently out of fear for not making a good impression."

Maria understood. "He's been damaged."

"He has been. More so than I probably know."

She only wanted to know one thing. "He's not putting up a front now? With you?" She reached over for her daughter's hand. "I'm sorry for asking, _querida_ , I just want to make sure after all that happened with Kevin."

"He's not. He's been wonderfully himself, slowly. It's been a process, but he's not that kind of guy. Even his friends vouch for that, and Marty has had the almost same upbringing as he had."

Seeing the conviction in her eyes, Maria nodded. She looked at her husband. "Alistair? Anything you would like to ask her now, then?"

Alistair shook his head, needing time to process her request and her reasons behind it. "I'll try and keep an open mind. But he better treat you like a Princess."

Deja beamed. "Oh, papa, you have no idea."


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks to the dictating life, here's another chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

He saw them arriving through the window. They had arranged to meet at Harry's; it being Deja's favorite place to eat and a neutral ground to meet. The man she was with turned around, putting his chin up so she could straighten his tie. His hair short, a day old stubble on his cheeks which Alistair wasn't sure he could appreciate. His daughter looked impeccable; polished, put together, every inch her mother. Her smile was affectionate and comfortable as she looked up at him. Undoubtedly saying something that was meant to put him at ease. He hadn't seen that look on her face in a long time.

The man gave her an affectionate smile in return, pressing a kiss to her forehead. It was then that Alistair saw the sling. Maybe there was a good reason for the day old stubble on his cheeks after all. His daughter laid her palms flat against the lapels of his jacket, her face stern but her eyes smiling. She seemed so happy and carefree. Perhaps she was right; he needed an open mind meeting this man.

Beside him, Maria touched his sleeve. "You see how at ease she is?"

"I do."

"You also see how nervous he is meeting us?"

"Yes, I see that."

Maria patted his arm. "Be nice, darling. He might be the best thing that's happened to her in a long time."

Somehow, Alistair doubted that. But he'd give it a shot. Even with one arm, he held the door open for his daughter, and she preceded him. Her eyes traveled over the crowd until she found her parents. Taking his hand, she took him in the direction of the table.

His eyes were guarded, but he was standing up straight and looking him directly in the eye. Good. Alistair rose as Deja introduced them. "Papa, mama, this is Grisha. Grisha, Alistair and Maria Barrow, my parents."

"I'm sorry to give you my left hand, sir, but as you can see, my right is non-operational at the moment. It's nice to meet you."

Alistair took the outstretched hand. "No problem. Did you have an accident?"

"Small car accident. Broke my shoulder, unfortunately. If all goes well, the sling will be gone in a week." Shaking Maria's hand as well, he smiled. "It's nice to meet you both. Deja has told me a lot about you."

They sat down and Alistair ordered wine. Carefully, Grisha lifted the sling over his head and relaxed his shoulder. "Did you have a good trip? Deja told me you're staying at the Bel-Air."

Maria told him about their trip. He listened intently, his eyes on Maria, his posture not relaxed yet. Deja moved her chair just a little bit in his direction. Alistair wondered if she'd noticed or if it was an unconscious move. They seemed to be in sync with each other.

Dinner came, and they asked him about his job, and his upbringing. He'd gone over what to tell about his job with Dee before they left the house. His upbringing was a different story. He told them about the foster homes and the job-hopping before settling in his current position. Alistair listened to it and was impressed. The man had made something of himself. Not everyone would have been able to suffer through it. Judging by the way his daughter was looking at him, she loved him all the more for it.

After dinner, Maria proposed a stroll on the beach. She stayed back with Deja. "Let them figure this one out, _querida_."

Deja followed Grisha's form with mild concern in her eyes. She squeezed her mother's hand. "What do you think?"

Maria smiled. "He's nothing like Kevin. His vibe is different." He may be nervous, but Maria could see that his heart was kind, gentle. Every touch, look or smile sent in Deja's direction was only filled with love and affection. The way he acted towards her daughter made Maria more relieved than she would've thought.

"It is. Oh mama, he is so wonderful, I can't tell you."

Seeing that her only child was head over heels was enjoyable. The smile on her face told Maria all she needed to know. Now that she'd seen him, she was even more convinced that they were a good match. Knowing her husband though, he needed to make sure.

A few yards in front of them, Grisha and Alistair were walking beside each other. Grisha looked up at him. "Is there anything else you would like to know? I know I would have a million questions for the person dating my daughter. Especially if he or she sort of turned up out of the blue."

Alistair took a deep breath. "Has she told you about her ex-husband?"

"Yes, sir." His face contorted into a grimace. "My first instinct was to run to my research department and demand he be found so I could torture the hell out of him."

That reaction made Alistair smile. "I do hope you haven't done that."

"No, sir. I'd be no good with just my left arm and she needed me to stay put and hear her out."

That too, was another good reaction. "What about your family, Grisha? We've talked about your foster homes, but what's happened to your family?"

The silence stretched and Alistair feared that he wasn't going to answer. "My father lives in Russia. My mother and sister died when I was little, and he's been out of the picture for reasons I don't know." Another pause. "I have a mother figure. Her name is Hetty, she's tiny but fierce. She took me in when I was a teenager. Then there's the team I work with. They function as my family."

"So not completely alone in the world."

He snorted. "Not completely. Besides, Dee makes sure that I don't shut everybody out."

That Alistair could relate too. "She is like Maria in that way."

"They look alike."

"They do. Both in appearance and in personality. Deja takes after her and my mother." More silence. Alistair cleared his throat. "Don't take this wrong way, Grisha..." He halted, gathering his thoughts. "Can you specify on your job? I get the feeling that there is more to it than you're offering."

Biting his lip, Grisha nodded. "I can't tell you specifics, Mr. Barrow. Much as I would like to. I can tell you that it's classified. There are things I can't even tell Dee. It's a sometimes dangerous job, but it helps to keep a lot of people safe, including her."

"Will it provide for you both and any future children you may or may not have?"

"Yes, sir. It won't on the level you did, but we will have everything we need. I'll make sure of it."

"Good." Alistair clasped his hands behind his back as they walked on. "Do you love my daughter?"

"Yes, sir."

"You intend to marry her?"

The thought alone made him smile. "If she'll have me, sir, I would like nothing more."

The women had finally caught up with them. Maria patted Alistair's shoulder. "Are you done interrogating the poor boy?" She looked at Grisha. "I hope he hasn't been a complete bother?"

"I'm sure I would've asked all the same questions would she have been my daughter, ma'am," Grisha assured her. "So, no, no bother at all."

Alistair regarded him again. Then he smiled at his wife. "I was just asking him about his intentions. Like any father would."

"I'm relieved you let him live, dear," Maria laughed. "Let's call it a night, shall we? Walk us to the car?"

"Of course." Deja took Grisha's good hand, leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear to which he grinned.

Alistair watched them closely. They were talking to Maria, laughing. He had to admit, his daughter hadn't chosen wrong. He got a sense of purpose from this man. He'd fight for his loved ones. Do anything to keep them safe. They arrived at the car and greeted the driver.

Maria looked up at Indulge. "Well, you're going to be home before we are."

Deja shook her head. "No, we're going home."

Alistair raised an eyebrow at her. "Isn't home here?"

"Not with his shoulder being broken." She hugged her mother. "We're going to the house."

There was a house? Well, at least they'd have enough room to add children. Grisha shook Alistair's hand. "Why don't you come over for lunch on Saturday? I'm sure Dee would like to give you the grand tour, and you can meet Hetty."

Maria smiled. "Sounds like a wonderful idea, darling. Let us know if we can bring anything? And text me the address?"

"Yes mama, I will."

One last hug between mother and daughter, and the car door closed. Maria rolled the window down. "Be careful driving home. See you on Saturday." A few moments later, the two were out of sight. She turned to her husband. "Well? You haven't scared him off?"

"I hope not. He seems honest about his feelings for her. I'm sure he'll make her happy. I just want to make sure, Maria."

She patted his knee. "Of course you do, darling. Don't push it, though. His vibe is the complete opposite of Kevin's. It's his job to make sure people are safe, I'm sure he wants to make that happen for them at home as well."

"He wants to marry her."

"I would hope so. This living together thing doesn't settle with me completely."

"Good Catholic that you are," he teased. He wrapped his arm around her. "He was nervous, but all his answers were honest. I'll have to get to know him better to know exactly who he is. But his first impression is promising."

"That was all we could hope for."

Alistair nodded and looked out of the window. Unfortunately, first impressions could be deceiving.


	24. Chapter 24

Somehow I've gone from updating in during the weekend to updating in the middle of the week. I'm explaining the reason for not telling Sam in the next chapter, dear ones, bear with me! (Caro, I finally found the reason my subconscious was trying to tell me. Don't hate me :O)

* * *

"What are you going to do at the office?"

Grisha grinned. "Babe, I haven't been at the office for ten days. _Ten days._ If I stay at home one more day, I'll go stir crazy. Besides, it'll give me a chance to bully Hetty into coming on Saturday, and to catch up with the rest of the team."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You promise me not to overdo it? And keep your sling on?"

"I promise."

"How are you going to get there?"

"I'll take a cab."

She still didn't completely trust it, and Grisha pulled her close with his free arm. "Gorgeous, don't worry about it. I won't go any further than the office, I won't drive, I won't get into a complicated situation where I need to shoot my way out of. It's just so I can catch up with them and what they're doing."

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I know. I'm sorry. I just don't want you to get hurt when you finally get to take your sling of next week. And I sorta like having you home and at the café."

"I like being here too, babe. But I still have a job to do. You still have work to do, even when I'm at the café. If I spend one more day with whining customers or in the silence of this house when you're not here… I hope you have the psychiatric hospital on speed dial."

Her laughter resonated in his neck. "Fine. I know you'll go crazy just sitting around. At least at home I know you're safe with me."

He grinned. "I can promise you that the office is a fort where nobody gets in when they have no right to be. Nobody knows it's there unless they have to work there. I'll be fine."

"Okay." Dee pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled. "On your way back, you think that you can find a barber? Or get an electric razor? This scruff is getting a bit too much."

"I haven't heard you complain yet."

"I am now."

"Ah." He hadn't shaved in a few days. Dee didn't want to do it because she was afraid she would hurt him, and he couldn't with his wrong arm. "I'll make sure to return clean shaven."

"Thank you." The clock struck one and she let go of him, albeit reluctantly. "Is it okay if I take the Mercedes to work? I need to pick some things up on my way over there, and you have more space."

"You know where to find the keys." He pushed a few buttons on his phone to order a cab. "I'll let you know what time I'll be home?"

"You better." Picking up her purse and keys, she turned around to kiss him again. "I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you, too." He waved as she pulled the front door closed behind her. An hour later, he arrived at the office.

Hetty looked up from her desk. "Mr. Callen. And here I was, hoping that you'd finally take all your sick leave."

Settling across her desk, he shook his head. "You didn't honestly believe that, right? I know there's more than an empty house to go to now. But that doesn't mean I'm not bored to death on the days she works."

"Then there's that." She smiled. "In that case, you want some tea? Have her parents arrived yet?"

"Tea would be great. I met her parents last Tuesday, actually."

"And?" Hetty prompted when he didn't continue.

He shrugged, then winced when he felt his shoulder. "She's a complete copy of her mother. Maria is really friendly. Her father is a real Brit; a bit more proper and stiff, I guess."

Putting his tea in front of him, Hetty sat back. "You haven't put up a front with them?"

"I tried not to. I'm not sure it worked; I was _so_ nervous." Those words left his mouth and his eyes grew wide. "I just mentioned that out loud?"

"You did." Hetty had imagined that he'd be worried. So he wanted to give them a good impression. Wanted to prove that he was worthy of their daughter. "Nervous, you? I wouldn't have thought that."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes, you would've. You know I don't meet parents. I never have. Not with Tracy, not with Joelle… I don't do parents."

"You didn't do furniture either, until a few months ago," she reminded him. "Meeting parents in a natural next step. I take it things are serious?"

"If they weren't already, they are now." He took a sip of his tea, searching for words. "Would you be shocked if I said that I want to marry her?" For an instant, he thought he saw her eyes shine with pride and joy. When he blinked, it was gone and he wondered if he was seeing things.

Hetty put her cup down on its saucer, looking for words to express herself. The fact that he was voluntarily talking about marriage meant that he had come a long way. It meant that he trusted her to stay; it meant that he was letting himself love her. Deja was exactly what he'd needed to see that not everybody in his life would love and than leave him. "I'd say that that is a big step. Are you serious about considering marriage?"

Swallowing, he moved to the edge of his seat. "Go on, say it. It's _huge_. It's _huge_ , because Callen, the lone wolf, the 'tribe of one', is considering getting married. I know that, Hetty. But you know what? Dee taught me that I'm not a 'tribe of one' anymore. Haven't been for quite a while, actually. Because I have all of you. I have you, and Sam and Kensi and Deeks and even Eric and Nell. And most of all, I have Dee. Dee is the best thing that's ever happened to me, other than you saving me from juvie, and I'd be a complete fool to let that slip through my fingers."

"You would be," Hetty agreed. "You're really growing roots, then?"

"I am."

That brought another question up. "Have you told Mr. Hanna?"

Grisha shook his head. "He doesn't know she even exists."

"Why?"

Taking a deep breath, he pursed his lips. "Lots of reasons. Remember how he, and you, set up that date with Joelle? He's always on my back about wanting me to settle down, find someone. It's been nice to have her for myself. I know it's just because he cares, Hetty, it's not that. He has a tendency to overdo it, and I was done with it. But maybe I've been wrong keeping it from his for so long."

"You've shared with Mr. Deeks and Ms. Blye."

"Well, there is no keeping anything from Deeks. He guessed. And Kens… Kens is like my little sister. It felt right to tell her."

"It doesn't feel right to tell Mr. Hanna?"

"Maybe. Eventually. I'll have to start spending time with the guy again before I tell him anything."

"He only wants you to be happy."

Nodding, he rose. "I know. That's why I brought him tickets for the game on Sunday. Are they upstairs?"

Hetty confirmed with a nod. "They are. Eric and Nell are running a few things by them. It's quiet now that you're on sick leave."

He grinned and winked. "They're all waiting for me to come back." He started to walk in the direction of the stairs, changed his mind and came back. "Before I forget. Lunch? Our place? Saturday? I'd like to introduce you to Alistair and Maria."

That almost made her spill her tea. "Excuse me?"

Grisha rolled his eyes at her. "You heard me. You need a different job. You're there as my adoptive mom, so be nice, Hetty." With that, he finally turned around and went up the stairs, leaving Hetty with eyes wide as saucers and a warm feeling in her heart. He found the others in Ops where he could make himself useful, going over scenarios.

At the end of the day he produced the tickets to Sam. "You game Sunday?"

"You sure you have time for the game?" Sam was apprehensive, and Callen couldn't say he blamed him.

"I know I've been a bit distant lately. I'm sorry. Think of it as a peace offering for not being around the last couple of months." He shrugged. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Oh, now he can make the time." Sam glared at him, something Callen had expected. "Don't you have a toaster to pick apart, or some language to brush up on? Or, I don't know, a date with your non-existing girlfriend?"

Callen rolled his eyes. "Toaster works fine these days. I've spent the past ten days working on my language skills. If the girlfriend is still non-existent, there's no date to plan." Shaking his head, he sighed. "I know I haven't been the greatest friend out of work lately Sam, and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it up to you. I'll come and say hello to the kids and Michele."

Sam looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You're keeping something from me."

"Personal growth. I'm trying to grow roots here. With a lot of help. And since Nate is not specifically around, I had to find help somewhere else." It was as close to the truth as he was going to get.

Sam huffed, studied him. "You're trying to grow roots? Seriously?"

"It's about time I did something about my commitment fears. Settle down somewhere."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would've been all over me. With advice on how to talk and what to say and what to change. I love you man, but I needed to figure this one out myself."

Momentarily Sam chewed his bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say to his friend. "I feel a bit neglected."

"You have every right to."

"And the kids and Michele feel neglected, too. And we miss you. _I_ miss you."

Callen nodded. In this process of growing into the man Dee deserved, and in protecting his relationship with her, he had turned into the bad friend. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you all. But you have to understand that things will change."

"They already have."

There was that. "Would you still be okay if this new and improved me found someone he really liked? Because that would change the dynamic again."

Laughing, Sam nodded. "Yeah, but that would all change things for the better. That would mean there would be family barbecues out back, and Christmases with all of us, and birthdays for the little ones when you finally have kids. Damn it, G, I only want you to be happy."

"Yes _mom,_ I am." He held up the two tickets. "Now that is out of the way, you game on Sunday?"

"Absolutely."

"Great." Callen was relieved. Even though he hadn't told Sam about Dee yet, which he would, honestly, he could be a better friend. On their way out, they passed Deeks and Kensi and Callen promptly suggested getting drinks.

It was later that night that Callen realized that it had been the first time in months he'd socialized with the complete team. His priorities might have changed, but that didn't mean his balance couldn't be better.


	25. Chapter 25

Hi, guys. This is the last post before I go on vacation, I found some spare minutes in between packing and last minute appointments. That said, I saw that I've completely forgotten to do something with Grisha's birthday! :O It's May 3rd by now, so I'll mention something in one of the upcoming chapters.

Caroline: You hit the nail on its head. ;-)

* * *

Saturday arrived, and Grisha was walking up and down the house, double-checking the rooms and terrace. Dee kept half an eye on him. After his third check on an already impeccable table, she plucked him from the dining room and sat him down on a chair in the kitchen. "Sit. You're making me nervous."

"About what?"

"You keep double, triple-checking everything. I don't think we can make it better than it is now."

He was about to protest when he caught her look and kept quiet. "Fine."

Trying to distract him, she asked: "You excited for the game tomorrow?"

"Pretty much."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Pretty much?" Tossing the salad, her expression told him to elaborate.

"I'm excited for the game. I'm excited to spend time with Sam and his family." He bit his lip and sighed, plucking on his sling. "I haven't told him about us."

Dee had half-and-half expected that. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and turned around, crossing her arms. "Why? I thought you trusted him."

"I do." Shifting in his seat, he looked everywhere but at her. "I trust Sam with my life. Have I told you about my first date with Joelle?"

"Blind date, set up by Sam and Hetty."

"I told Hetty this last Thursday… He tends to overdo it. He's like a mother hen looking out for her chicks. I want to make this work for us by myself. God knows he'd be all over it the minute I'd tell him something was up."

Not saying anything immediately, Dee watched him. If not his words, the shuffling in his seat and his diverted eyes told her there was more to it than he let on. "You told Marty and Kensi," she softly said.

"There is no getting anything passed Deeks. He guessed, on Christmas Day. And I just told him. And Kens… I had to tell Kens when she asked me if I needed to stay with them when I broke my shoulder." Again, he looked at his shoes. "I guess part of me doesn't want to tell Sam."

Taking the few steps in his direction, Dee crouched down. "But why? Aren't you happy? Don't you want him to know you're happy?"

His smile made her whole day. "I'm elated! I've never been this happy in my life! Honestly, Dee, I need you to know that."

Smiling, she squeezed his hand. "I know that. What other reason is there?"

Taking a deep breath, he finally came out with it. "Other than the fact that I'm a very private person… I'm afraid that he's going to meddle. He'll want to know everything. He'll tell me what to do. He'll practically write my proposal when I'm not paying attention. And like I said, I know it's his way of showing that he cares, but I finally have a private life. If I don't tell him, I don't have to tell him to back off, and he won't meddle."

Dee considered his words for a moment. "But doesn't that mean that he thinks you won't be able to do it? He trusts you to have his back in his job, right? It feels as if he doesn't trust you to be able to have a private life. Let alone maintain one."

"In his defense, my track record is not promising."

She shrugged. "You just hadn't found your person yet."

That made him smile. "I guess so."

"Are you trying to prove _him_ or _yourself_ that you can do this?"

"Maybe both. Him, mostly. "

Shifting, she rested her head against his. "Oh, baby… You're doing great. If only you could see how much you've changed this past year. I'm so proud of you. Don't doubt that you can do this. You already are. And we'll hit a few bumps in the road, like everyone else does. So what? We'll manage them together. Don't doubt yourself."

Grisha closed his eyes. "You're proud of me?"

"Of course I am! Very, very proud!" Cupping his cheeks, she kissed him. "I'll tell you every day if I have to. You've come a long way this past year. From starting to date, all by yourself, to letting me see the house, to telling me about your job… You've done all that by yourself. You're even meeting my parents!"

"Like I had a choice."

"Not really." She winked. "Still, though. You've made a lot of progress. You should be proud of yourself, too."

Nodding, he sighed. "When you put it like that…"

"I just did." She was about to rise when the doorbell rang. "Take a deep breath and relax. Then please go and open the door."

He rose with her and took his time to thoroughly kiss her. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Playfully, she pushed him out of the kitchen. "Go and let them in. Papa hates waiting."

Alistair and Maria loved the house. Dee gave them the grand tour before lunch, and even Hetty, who hadn't seen all of it, was impressed. It was coming together. It was starting to look like theirs.

Maria's eyes followed her daughters as she puttered around the kitchen. The way she had talked about the house; the pride in her eyes, the contentment on her face… She let Alistair and Hetty talk business and joined her daughter at the sink. "You're happy here." It wasn't a question.

Dee looked up. "What?"

"You're happy here."

Adding the last of the chopped dill to the smoked salmon, she nodded. "I am."

"Maybe even more at ease than you are at your own apartment."

Shaking her head, she wiped her hands on her apron. "No, not more. Different. This is _our_ house. Not officially yet, but you know… I've been living here with him for the past four weeks. Before that it was a night here and there. We went furniture shopping together, I added some of my go-to books and knick-knacks. It's different." She smiled. "But you're right. I am happy here."

"Furniture shopping? You mean to tell me that it wasn't this way when you first saw it?"

Biting her lip, Dee tried to decide what to tell her mother. "Long story short: he's trying to grow roots here. He decided most things for himself. We both fell in love with the dining table, but if he hadn't loved it, I would've been happy with something else. It's only been like this since February or so." She went back to her lunch preparations.

Maria looked at Grisha from her place in the kitchen. "Is that why you have an epiphyte?"

"The epiphyte was Hetty's way of telling him that he needed to settle down somewhere."

"Ah." Maria considered for a moment. "She seems smart. Not suffocating him with motherly advice."

"She knows he'd probably ignore it anyway." Handing her mother the plate with fish, and taking a plate with ciabatta, Dee pushed Maria out of the kitchen. "It's lunch time. We'll talk later, okay?"

Lunch passed with easy conversation and laughter. After lunch, Alistair and Hetty moved to the patio with a large teapot and a silent signal they were not to disturbed for a little while. Grisha watched them go, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared. Dee wrapped her arms around his waist. "Why are you worrying about it?"

Pulling the corners of his lips up, he rested his head against hers. "I don't know. I guess I just want him to trust me with you. I want him to know that he has nothing to fear from me. But maybe that's too much to ask after two meetings and all that you've been through with Kevin."

"He's only worried," she tried to assure him.

"I know. Maybe I won't be able to take his worries away for the three weeks they're here."

Tightening her hold on him, Dee sighed. "If Hetty won't work miracles, he's going to have to trust my judgment and Mom's. Mom really likes you."

"She does?"

"I do." Maria winked at them as she entered the dining room. "Give Alistair some time to adjust. I'm sure that if you had a daughter who'd been through that, you'd do the same." She picked up some plates. "I get the impression that you love my daughter, and your vibe is different from Kevin's, so I'm going to trust that. Then again, as parents, we always worry about our kids."

Dee rolled her eyes. "See? Let Papa brood over it, if he must, but I know I love you anyway."

That never seemed to get dull. "I love you too, babe."

Out back, on the patio, Alistair could see the three of them huddled together in the dining room. He liked the house; it was cozy, peaceful. Deja seemed to know her way around as well as she did in her own apartment. He turned to Hetty. "You've known him for a long time, then."

Taking a sip from her tea, Hetty nodded. "Since he was fifteen."

"And he's always treated all his girlfriends with respect?"

"If the question is if he's ever abused or assaulted anyone of them, I can answer you no. I like to think I've raised him with more respect for women in general."

"Really."

Instead of answering, she looked at him. "I've known him for a long time, Alistair. I know what he can and cannot do. He will never raise a hand against a woman."

Nodding, Alistair seemed to accept that. "You know what his job is like?"

"I do. The parts that he can tell me."

"And you don't worry about him not coming home?"

"Every single day." More so when she saw him throw himself into something that might very well kill him. "But I also know that he knows the risks involved, and he's been trained accordingly. He's good at what he does, Alistair."

"Oh, I believe that." Toying with his cup, he sighed. "Do you consider yourself a good judge of character, Hetty?"

"Most of the time, yes."

"What's he really like? Is he like this all the time?"

"Guarded? Cautious?" She weighed her words. "Not when it comes to work. But he's been through thirty-seven foster homes before he came to live with me, some fine, some bad, some worse than we can imagine. It does shape a person. Like I said, in his work he's confident, sometimes even arrogant, because he knows what he can do. He knows what he's good at. But letting someone in is not his area of expertise, Alistair. It's the first time in his life he's meeting the parents of his girlfriend. It's the first time I get to meet his girlfriend. That should tell you that he's trying."

"Trying what exactly?"

"He's trying to trust her. Can you image what it must feel like to be pushed around from family to family before the age of fifteen? He's basically been alone his whole life. He trusts me, but I've had to prove that I'm here to stay. The fact that he invited me to dinner to meet Deja, that he's furnished his house for the first time in twenty years, that he's letting someone in." Right on time she swallowed the part about having to _order_ him to talk to Nate. "Your daughter is everything he's needed his whole life, and I'm profoundly proud of him for _wanting_ to trust her all on his own."

"What if they do get married, and have kids, and he doesn't get to come home one day? Will she be looked after?"

Hetty frowned. "You honestly believe he will leave her without anything, if at all? He will not, and I repeat, _not_ leave her with nothing." She had his changed will on her desk yesterday, for safe keeping, knowing that there was an attorney somewhere with a copy. Not that she could share that with Alistair. "She, and however many kids they may have, will always be looked after."

"Good." He stared in the distance for a few moments. "I'm sorry if my concern may come across as excessive," he apologized. "I don't want to happen what happened with Kevin."

"I understand. But you have to understand that she's her own person. I don't think that Deja is such a poor judge of character that she would move in with someone she doesn't trust."

Alistair had to give her that. "That's true. Do you think Deja knows about his job? Really, I mean?"

"It is my understanding he's told her everything he could." Although her tone was friendly, Alistair heard that she was getting irritated. "She chose to stay, knowing that he might not get back to her one day. That should tell you enough, shouldn't it?"

Glancing over, Alistair saw that her eyes were close to shooting fire and her strong grip on her teacup suggested that he was reaching a boiling point. Exactly the mother he'd hoped she was. Taking another breath, he nodded. "Yes, it should."

Looking over to where Grisha and Deja were still talking to Maria, now in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, he saw how he was standing close to Deja. He'd been nothing but respectful and affectionate to his daughter; teasing her, helping her with preparations. They'd been telling stories about the farmers market they went to; stories about furniture shopping, about the café, their day-to-day life. They were well on their way to making a life together.

Hetty was right. It should be enough that Deja trusted him. That she knew about his job and past and decided he was worth dating anyway. He needed to let it go. Putting his cup on its saucer, he rose. "Alright. Let's join them inside, then, shall we?"


	26. Chapter 26

And I'm back! For now, anyway. Doing some research for a part of the story somewhere down the line and it's more work that I thought it was going to be, so I might not be around next week. Just bear with me okay?

Caroline: Hetty wasn't unsympathetic towards Alistair's concerns at all. But Alistair needed to understand that Grisha has been traumatized as well. It's not just Dee that has/had trust issues, they both have/had. And they've worked on them together. She was merely pointing out things she felt Alistair needed to hear about him that Grisha (being who he is) wasn't going to share. I'm sorry if that come across as being harsh and insensitive. Hetty was just looking out for her son, as any mother would.

* * *

It was after the game three weeks later that Callen found himself sitting at Sam's back porch with a drink and a view of the garden. Sam put his drink down and looked at him. "I still don't know why we couldn't carpool to the game."

"Because I had things to do before the game."

Sam furrowed a brow. "Like what? Family brunch?"

"Like grocery shopping. Errands. I do have a house that needs maintenance every now and then."

"He has a house that…" Sam shook his head. "Doesn't maintenance require you have stuff? Stuff that works?"

"I have stuff that works. Now, at least. The vacuum cleaner broke." That was at least one errand. Dee had sent him out to buy a new vacuum cleaner, complete with a make and model that she wanted. He hadn't even stopped to question her.

Baffled, Sam stared at him. "Okay, I'm going to get some answers from you. Michele!"

Michele arrived with a plate of burgers. Callen looked at them and wondered if they were homemade or store bought. He was becoming a snob when it came to food. "What?"

"He went out to buy a vacuum cleaner."

"That always works better than a broom," was Michele's dry comment.

Sam looked at her. "Michele, a _vacuum cleaner. Him._ "

Callen shrugged. "Hey, I'm trying to better my life here. Besides, I might not have a lot of stuff, I do clean."

"He's been complaining about your lack of social time." She took a seat next to him.

"He's just complaining that my social time doesn't necessarily involves him anymore."

"I'm standing right here."

Michele rolled her eyes at her husband. "We know."

"And I should apologize for not being around for the last six months or so," Callen said. "I've been working on myself and I needed time. You know he tends to smother."

"Still standing here."

"You do, hon. Remember how you talked about him and Joelle when they were dating?"

Sam turned back to his grill and shrugged. "Just didn't want him to screw it up."

"You think I screwed it up?"

"Maybe you could've put a bit more effort in?"

"Sam, she hated the job. I couldn't convince her to stay. I'm good at what I do. I'm not going to give that up because she's scared to death about me not coming home."

Again, Sam frowned. "What if she was the perfect girl? And you let her slip through your fingers because you don't want to give up the job."

"She wasn't the perfect girl. For someone else, maybe. Not for me."

Michele studied him. "You've met the perfect girl."

"Maybe." He wasn't committing to anything.

Sam turned around, eyes wide. "What?"

Michele smiled. "He's met the perfect girl. The one that will stay despite his job."

"I do think she really likes me, Michele."

Michele patted his knee. "Of course she does. She wouldn't stay if she didn't."

"You've met someone? You're actually dating someone and you haven't told me?" He turned the heat on the grill down. "What's her name? Where'd you meet her? How long has this been going on?"

"Nope, you're not entitled to all that information yet. We're getting somewhere, I really like her, and you are not going to tell me what to do."

"When have I ever told you what to do?"

"Do I need to remind you that I met Joelle because of you in the first place? I met this one all on my own, I'm trying to make it work all on my own. Will you let me do this?"

"You've never done this on your own before."

"It hasn't been for lack of trying."

Michele laughed. "Oh, he's got a point, Sam."

"What do you mean?"

"You want the truth?"

"Please."

"What would you have done if I'd told you that I was dating someone right away? Wouldn't you have been all over me? Trying to coax information out of me on who she was? Where I'd met her? What I was doing? Where I was taking her on dates?"

Sam had the decency to look slightly flushed. "Well…."

"You would've. You would've insisted on meeting her, long before I was ready to share. Hell, you would probably write a proposal and buy a ring when I wasn't looking." Callen shot his partner a stern look. "So no, I haven't shared her with you yet. You'll get to know when I know what's going to happen."

"Happen how?"

Lifting his glass, he took a sip. "If things are going to be permanent. If she's moving in, if she's absolutely sure about me. And I would appreciate it if you'd let me write my own proposal." She'd already moved in and he was absolutely sure she was going to stay, but Sam didn't have to know that yet.

Callen could see the wheels turning in Sam's head. Then he grinned. "He's thinking about proposing."

Groaning, Callen rolled his eyes. "Seriously? That is all you took from that? That I'm thinking about proposing?"

"You've never mentioned proposing before." Sam was getting excited. Then his eyes grew wide again. "How long have you been dating her?"

"That's classified." And that was all Callen was going to give him.

Later that night, when Sam and Michele were putting away dishes, Michele leaned against the counter. "You have to let it go."

Sam looked up. "Let what go?"

"He has a girlfriend. He's putting down roots. Good for him. But you need to let it go and let him handle it."

"I am."

"You're interrogating him on every detail! What's her name, what's she like, what does she do for a living… Let him set the pace. He'll tell you things when he's ready. And knowing Callen, that might not be tomorrow or the day after."

Sam regarded her and thought hard for a moment. "You think he's right?"

"Keeping it from you?"

"That I'm too much in his face about it?"

"You are." She didn't even hesitate. "But he knows it comes from a good place. Just give him room to evolve and become who he's meant to be. He'll come to you when he's ready."

Sighing, Sam nodded. "I'm only trying to help."

Michele patted his hand. "I know, hon. But he's like Aiden. You have to let it go at some point and let them figure it out themselves. He's old and wise enough to figure things out. The fact that he went for help alone should tell you that."

"It did." Still pensive, Sam stared at the wall. "I only want him to be happy, you know?"

"You mentioned that." She nudged his shoulder. "Give him space. He'll come to you."


	27. Chapter 27

Hi, all! A chapter this week after all. :-) Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

He was pacing outside the shop. His third today. The other two hadn't lived up to his expectations, so here he was. It was his only free day that she wasn't here this weekend. Sunday was his day off and her workday. Saturday was the only day they really had together, and even that sometimes didn't work, because of his job or the level of crowd at the café.

He had his friendship with Sam back on track, basically. He'd been dropping subtle hints, but nothing concrete. Sam hadn't met Dee yet and Grisha still wanted to keep it that way. At least until it was more official.

Which was the reason he was pacing outside the jewelry store. He'd looked online, browsing through shops, but not really finding what he was looking for. He'd studied Kensi's ring closely, and though it fit Kensi to a T and Marty had done a great job picking it out, it wasn't something he'd want for Dee. So he kept looking.

Finally opening the door, he went inside, only to come back out empty- handed half an hour later. Nothing he saw seemed to fit. Not that he was sure what he was looking for. Something elegant and small. Delicate. Simple. Understated.

Dee didn't like big things. She owned tons of earrings, but wore only one or two pairs of them on a day-to-day basis. Classic diamond studs or small hoops. With the exception of New Years Eve and a few parties they'd attended since then, those were the only ones he'd seen her wear. That, and a thin, twisted bracelet, which he'd learned, was a present from Nanna.

So nothing big. Nothing really fancy either, because that just wasn't who she was. He needed something a bit quirkier, but after the three shops, he was slightly disappointed. Surely there were more girls out there like Dee? Where did those guys buy an engagement ring?

Another shop. The gentleman nodded his understanding at his explanation that he wanted something a bit more different than all those other guys were purchasing. Again, though, he didn't find it.

Becoming frustrated, he left the shop, wondering what to do next. Maybe he just wasn't going to find her ring today. Perhaps the universe was conspiring against him in this search for the symbol that was going to make things permanent between them.

Maybe he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Dee loved all things vintage. Old. She preferred vintage china and linen napkins. Old-fashioned manners. Even her brush and comb, he was told, were inherited from Abuela a long time ago. She always said it was the stories. Having belonged to someone else, made that they'd seen other times, other places. They'd already lived a life; she was prolonging that, adding stories of her own.

Okay, so a vintage ring then. One that'd hopefully already had a happy ending. But where to find one? He hadn't searched online for that kind of shop. He wouldn't know where to find it. Pulling out his cell, he dialed a familiar number.

"To what do I owe the pleasure on this Sunday, Mr. Callen?"

Grisha grinned. "Hetty, you have to stop calling me that out of work. I do have a name, now, you know."

"Yes, I know. And I should start using it, indeed." She cleared her throat. "It will take time. What can I do for you right now?"

"Please tell me you know one or two vintage jewelry shops."

"I might… What are you looking for? Earrings? A bracelet?"

"An engagement ring."

It stayed quiet on the other end of the line for a little while. "You were serious about wanting to marry her."

"I still am."

He could hear her smile. "Very well. There's one a few blocks from the market you go to at Victory; it's run by Lily Anderson. She has lovely pieces. I'm confident you'll find something you like there."

He turned around and went in the direction of his car. "I need it to be different from all those other things out there, Hetty. I've been through four shops, and they all look the same to me. They're either too big or there's too much sparkle."

Hetty understood. "I know. That is not her. And it won't work with her profession either. I do know that, Mr. Callen."

"Good. So I won't find that there?"

"You won't," she assured him. "Tell Lily I said hi, she'll guide you through the process. Have you picked a time and place yet?"

Climbing in behind the wheel and putting her on speaker, he shook his head. "Not yet. I figured that finding a ring was higher on my priority list. No proposal without a ring."

"Very true. In that case, good luck finding the perfect ring… Grisha."

He laughed. "See, you'll get the hang of it. Thank you, Hetty. I'll see you tomorrow." Hanging up, he shifted gears and set off in the direction of the vintage market. It only took him two tries to find the shop. It was small, filled top to bottom with glass showcases and knick-knacks. This was more like it. This was a shop Dee would shop in.

An older lady appeared from the back, carrying a cup of tea. She smiled at him. "Well, hello, dear. Good to see you've brought some sunshine. What can I do for you today?"

"Uhm…" Suddenly ill at ease, he looked around. "I'm shopping for an engagement ring. And I couldn't find anything in a regular shop, so Hetty send me here."

"Hetty Lange?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, how wonderful! How is she? It's been ages since we've talked. Does she keep busy now that she's retired?"

Clearing his throat, Grisha nodded. Retired was a stretch, especially since she was all over everyone since Granger seemed to stick around. No such words as retirement in Hetty Lange's book. But of course Lily didn't know that. "She's fine. We try to keep her entertained."

"Good, good." Lily looked around, then back at him. "Let's have tea first, shall we? I always find that tea calms the nerves."

"Do I look so nervous?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Nervous, not so much. Frustrated, maybe." Within a moment, she was back with tea. She gestured towards a couch in the direction of the window. "Do take a seat, my dear. Sugar? Cookie?"

He declined. "No, just tea. Thank you."

They sipped tea and talked about nothing in particular. Grisha asked her questions about the shop, she asked him questions about Hetty, mostly. Then she put her cup down. "Now, to stop beating about the bush. You've come here for a reason. An engagement ring, you said?"

"Yes."

Her eyes rested on his face. "What's her name? Tell me what she's like? Does she wear a lot of jewelry on a day-to-day basis?"

He told her. "Her name's Deja. She's gorgeous, generous, kind, spontaneous. Calm and collected, comfortable in her own skin. She takes most things at face value, not afraid of a challenge, which I why she started dating me, I guess. The only things she wears a pair of earrings, not too big, and a delicate bracelet her grandmother gave her. She's a chef, so it can't be too big, because that would only be in the way."

Lily nodded. "And why aren't you buying her something new?" she asked.

"Because Dee is like that. She loves all things vintage. She says they have a story. I had to buy vintage china and wine glasses before buying anything else."

"And you don't mind?"

He shrugged. "I like the idea of adding another happy ending to what I hope has already been one."

"Well, then." Lily rose, indicating that he should follow her. "It's only the engagement ring? Not a wedding set?" At his wide eyes, she chuckled. "I'll take that as a no."

She showed him different trays with rings; some small, others bigger. Some had a colored stone, others an intricate design. They were all better than the ones he'd seen so far, but not one really stood out to him. After the last tray, he looked up at Lily and blushed. "I am being difficult, aren't I?"

She patted his hand. "No dear, absolutely not. You know her best; you'll know what is right when you see it. Give me a moment, I have a few more in the back." She came back a few minutes later with two more trays. "These are for special occasions only, and I think I've just found one."

His eyes traveled over the rings and rested on one. It was everything he wanted for her. Delicate. Not too big. Unique. Stunning in its simplicity. Hetty had been right, directing him towards Lily and her shop. He found the perfect ring. Lifting a finger, he pointed at it.

"That one."


	28. Chapter 28

Hi! Another chapter!

A reviewer pointed out that she has trouble picturing Dee because there's little physical description of her. Anyone else have this problem? I, of course, have a very vivid picture of her in my head, but if none of you guys do, I need to up my game and give you something that'll help you out. Let me know.;-)

* * *

It had started as any other day. Dee had the late shift, so they had breakfast, and she kicked him out the door with "I love you's" and "be safe's". While she was wearing one of his button-downs, he hadn't really wanted to go, but knowing that Hetty was not easily persuaded to forgive him because he couldn't let go of his girlfriend, and Dee was buried in the café's administration for the next few hours, he went anyway.

He arrived in the nick of time, throwing his tea strainer in a cup of hot water and tried to figure out why everybody on his team seemed to have a bucket list except for him. Maybe it was time to make one. There were things he wanted to do and they all included Dee. When he asked Kensi how the wedding planning was coming along, he got more details than he bargained for and instantly regretted having asked the question.

It promised to be a slow day as he settled in for paperwork. Looking back on it, he should've felt _something_. He should've known something was up. Then again, hindsight was always 20/20, and there hadn't been any clue that would've told him that something was about to happen.

Half an hour later, Eric's familiar whistle sounded and they went up to OPS. The fact that Hetty was there, too, wasn't unheard of, but for some reason it made him feel on edge. And when he looked at the screen, he instantly knew why.

"When was this?" he demanded.

"An hour ago," Eric answered, frowning. "And explosion downtown. A café." He touched his tablet. "Called _Indulge,_ owned by…"

"Deja Barrow and Lindy Knight."

Eric looked at him, surprised. "Yes…"

"Casualties?"

"Two dead, four injured. There didn't seem to be anyone else at the café," Nell answered.

No, it had been too early. The real traffic wouldn't start coming in until ten.

"Surveillance on who did this?"

"Not yet," Eric shook his head. "The apartment above the café is owned by Miss Barrow, but we don't know if she was home at the time of the explosion. The fire department didn't find anyone upstairs when they went to check."

Callen bit his lip, not wanting to tell them that he already knew that. He turned to Hetty. "Why are we watching this? Domestic terrorism?" Not that he didn't want to know that Dee's café had gone up in flames, but this seemed more like a FBI case.

Hetty sighed. "LAPD found something when checking the premises. Mr. Beale, please."

Eric put a picture up on the large screen. Callen screened it and was on his way out within seconds. "Where is she, Hetty?"

"On her way to the boatshed." But Hetty wasn't going to let him go like that. "Mr. Callen, I would appreciate it if you shed some light on this situation, please."

He turned around in the doorway. "It says: _Вы_ _будете_ _знать_ _,_ _что_ _он_ _чувствует_ _,_ _как_. _You'll know what it feels like_. It's signed with initials of someone who isn't alive anymore. You need to call Gibbs, let him know he's in danger. His team, too."

"I gathered that." Hetty frowned at him. "I know you need her safe, but I need to know what we're up against here."

Callen took a deep breath. "Serbia. Classified mission. It was only Gibbs and me. We needed to kill a Russian arms dealer living there. Long story short: not everything went according to plan and we had collateral damage. Both his wife and daughter were killed, too." He squared his shoulders. "His son was left behind, it's the only one I can think of that would want revenge."

"Do you have a name?"

"His father's name was Oleg Bogdanov. That's the initials on the bottom of the picture. I don't know what the son was called." With that, he finally left OPS.

Hetty looked at Sam. "Go with him, please. We'll start searching from here. We'll need you at the café, later. Both of you."

Sam didn't need much else and followed Callen out.

Rushing into the boatshed, he saw her lone figure on the screen. She was twisting her bracelet around her wrist; her jaw was set, her eyes filled with barely contained fury and anxiety. More than upset, he turned to the two agents who'd brought her in. "Whose idea was it to put her in interrogation? She's not a suspect. She's here to keep her safe!"

He backtracked towards the room, not even seeing Sam who'd come in behind him. Deja's posture instantly relaxed when she saw him. "Grisha…"

Callen checked every inch of her before wrapping his arms around her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm bloody pissed," she murmered. "Those two come knocking, don't want to identify themselves as other than NCIS agents, won't tell me where they're taking me, don't even give me enough time to get properly dressed." Leaning back, she looked at him. "You better tell what's happened before I scream bloody murder."

He drank in the sight of her, thankful that she was alive, inwardly smiling at her obvious accent. It got this way whenever she was pissed, scared or overly excited. "They haven't told you anything?"

"Nothing."

"Sit down." He pulled a chair up next to her. Taking a deep breath, he grasped her hands. "There's been an explosion."

"Where?"

"At Indulge."

Her eyes grew wide. "Are Lindy and Jess okay?"

"I don't know yet."

She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. "I take it wasn't an accident?"

"I'm sorry, baby. Very deliberate and targeted."

"They're targeting us?"

He nodded. "Someone is."

"Why? Because of work?"

"Because of something I have done in the past." He squeezed her hand. "It was my job to kill his father. Unfortunately, his mother and sister both got killed too."

"How do you know it's him?"

"He left a message for me at the café."

"He's trying to get back at you."

"Trying being the operating word."

"That's only because I was at home, not at the apartment." She was struggling for control over her emotions. "What does he want?"

"He wants to hurt me where it'll hurt most."

"And that's me."

"That's you."

"He's done his job."

Callen nodded. "He has. But it's my job to catch him and keep you safe."

"And you can do that at the same time?"

"If you don't go running off, I don't see a problem."

Swallowing, she pulled herself together. "What do you need from me? Right now?"

It was only when he touched her bare knee that her earlier comment about not getting time to get dressed registered. His anger rose again. She was still wearing his shirt and except for a pair of sneakers, little else. "We're going to get you a pair of jeans," he said through gritted teeth. "And I swear to God…"

Deja shrugged. "I'm sure they've seen bare legs before. Tell me what you need from me."

Even now, she still surprised him with her resilience. Her ability to switch. "Have you seen anyone suspicious?"

She was about to shake her head, then stopped. "Maybe… There were two guys, foreigners. They started coming in about two weeks ago, I think. Eastern-European. I didn't think any of it, having tourists every day. You know what it's like. But they were looking around a bit too much and asking a few too many questions." She looked at him. "I should've said something, right?"

"You couldn't have known, babe."

"Still…"

"You couldn't have known." He moved on. "Who has a key to the apartment?"

"We. Lindy." She cleared her throat, fighting tears. "Uhm… There's one in the office."

"Okay." He pushed her hair back from her face. "Are you going to be okay staying here? It's the only place right now that I can assure your safety. If we can't get them by tonight, we'll figure something out."

"We're not going home tonight?"

He shook his head. "The house is compromised. If they know where you work, they know where we live, too."

"Right."

Callen rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry, baby. I know this is a lot to take in all at once, and there's no time to process anything right now. But I have to figure this out before it gets completely out of hand."

Dee nodded; studied him. "You're awfully calm about all this."

"I'm not. I'm even more pissed off than you are, and your entire world just came crumbling down. But this is what I do. And I'll have the satisfaction of getting the bastard who's doing this. You can only sit here and hope for the best."

"I trust you."

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I know." Rising, he offered her his hand. "Ready to meet Sam?"

Looking down at her attire, Deja shook her head. "Don't think I have a choice, do I?"

"Not really."

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. "Lead the way."

Sam turned to the doorway when they entered. He'd watched their conversation on the screen. They really shared something. He'd seen the way Deja relaxed the moment Callen entered the room, how she trusted him to fix this. She seemed strong. She wasn't throwing tantrums about how she'd lost her entire life; that she couldn't go home, that she wasn't about to let him go if it meant that she could lose him too.

"Sam, this is Deja. Dee, this is Sam."

Deja nodded at him. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm sorry it has to be under these circumstances."

She inhaled and squeezed Callen's hand. "Me, too."

Sam shifted his attention back to his partner. "We need to check out the café."

Callen nodded. "Is there anything you want me to look for?"

"Please bring me back some information on Lindy and Jess. Everything else is just stuff. All replaceable."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Anything you want from home? If I can get there without getting killed?"

"The tea box."

That threw him for a loop. "The tea box? I'm sure Hetty will be more than happy to brew you a decent cup of tea. One that doesn't taste like paper."

" _Your_ tea box."

Speechless, his eyes locked with hers. The look on her face told him that she meant it. And he knew better than to argue. In fact, he was touched that was the first thing she seemed to think about. "That is all?"

"You, info on Lindy and Jess. Everything else we can replace."

With a nod, he turned to Sam. "Café first, then home if we can manage it." He kissed her long and hard. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

If Sam was surprised to hear him utter those words to someone he didn't know, he didn't say anything about it. There was no time to stop and question him. He followed Callen out. Time to catch the bad guys.


	29. Chapter 29

I seem to do only surprise updates these days. I'm sorry I've gotten so off schedule, but life is crazy at the moment. Haven't had time to write in two weeks, and I want to do this right, so I apologize upfront if there's going to be more time between chapters for the time being. Also, I'm not a technical writer. It's why I normally avoid cases altogether. The whole hassle of finding out why things work the way they work in a language that's not my native tongue is difficult, so I try to avoid it. All mistakes made are mine. Just so you know. ;-) Let me know what you think!

* * *

Callen was staring out of the window. He hadn't said anything since they'd left the boatshed. Sam was still trying to piece everything he'd seen together in his head. Seemingly, a lot had happened in Callen's life he wasn't aware of.

At last, Sam cleared his throat. "Is there anything else I need to be aware of?"

Callen tore his eyes away from the glass. "Like what?"

"I don't know… From watching that conversation you had earlier, I've missed out on a lot." Sam was trying to keep his tone neutral, but he was struggling. He didn't understand why Callen hadn't said anything. Not when things were as serious as they seemed to be.

"Like what?"

"You have a name?"

"Yeah."

Sam was getting irritated with this passive aggressive attitude. "How long have you known?"

"Little over a year."

If Sam's sharp intake of breath was anything to go by, he wasn't happy about it. "You didn't tell me?"

"Apparently not." Callen turned back to the scenery out of his window. "Does it matter?"

"Apparently not." Sam gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "Were you going to tell me that you've moved in together?"

"Not for a long time."

Sam parked the car behind a fire truck and turned the engine off. "Something I did?"

Callen threw his door open and got out. "Not really. Like I told you a few weeks ago, I needed to figure this out by myself. You've met her now, you know what she's like."

"Not really. I've said hello." Sam followed him. "She seems strong."

"She is." Callen flashed his badge and ducked under the tape. "Welcome to _Indulge_."

It was a mess. Debris everywhere. The ambulances had been long gone. Callen looked around. They'd had dinner here yesterday. Ted and Jess's fling, Ethan, had shown up and the girls had made a late supper after the café closed. And now it was gone.

Deeks showed up in front of them. "Hey, guys. No ID's on the victims yet." It was an almost apology to Callen. "Deja okay?"

"Pissed about being dragged away from home without a reason. Hawkins put her in the interrogation room."

Deeks frowned. "I'm sure Hetty's orders were to get her to the boatshed. Hawkins is just a kid. Surely, he didn't mean to treat her as a suspect."

"Either way, I chewed him out, sent him back to Ops." Callen pointed to what was left of the kitchen. "Blast came from there, right? It's right under the apartment. Have you found what's left of the bomb?"

"Bits and pieces." Deeks looked back to Sam as they started off in the direction of the kitchen. "You okay?"

Sam sighed, clenched his fists. "Other than that my partner doesn't want to tell me anything about his girlfriend or what his life is like, just great."

Deeks looked between the partners. "Give him a moment. This is all a lot for a Friday morning. He doesn't mean to be rude."

"No, he means to shut me out." Sam exhaled. "Where's Kensi?"

Deeks gestured to the kitchen. "Back there."

"… too little time to process everything. She's holding up." Callen indicated the mess around them. "What did LAPD tell you?"

"Not much. There's not much left." Kensi threw what was left of a pot back onto the floor. "Whatever their plan, they wanted this destroyed." She eyed Callen for a moment. "Are you sure you want to be here? We would all understand if you stayed at the boatshed with Deja."

He shook his head. "Dee is fine. Hetty will take care of her." Shrugging, he turned around. "You sure LAPD hasn't told you anything about Lindy or Jess?"

"Nothing," Kensi said. "It was the first thing we asked."

His expression turned grimmer with every corner he eyed. Relaxing his hands, he nodded towards the office. "I'm going to see if we have any missing keys. Deeks, show Sam whatever you found of that bomb?"

He swallowed once inside the office. His eyes scanned the mess; looking for the safe that he knew kept the deeds to _Indulge._ And with it a key of Dee's apartment. Kensi appeared in the doorway. "Sam is not happy with you," she whispered. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Callen said, pulling on his gloves and moving things out of the way. "He's met Dee and every other secret I've been keeping from him with it."

Kensi frowned. "Like what?"

"My name, the fact that we've moved in together." He finally found the small safe and pushed the code into the keypad. It clicked open and he rummaged through it. All the papers were there, but no key. In fact, the safe not being split open from the blast was odd as the office was located right next to the kitchen.

"What are you looking for?" Kensi asked.

"The spare key from the apartment." It not being in the safe of course meant that it wasn't here. There was no other place she would keep it. He handed Kensi the papers. "This _needs_ to get back to the boatshed. Keep it safe for me, will you?"

"Of course." She hesitated. "Callen…"

Callen looked up. "What is it, Kens?"

"I don't want to meddle… Maybe you should throw Sam a bone. If only for the moment. You need to work together, and much as I like you both, I'm not switching partners so you can go on ignore each other. Tell him _something_ , okay?"

"Like what?"

"At least acknowledge that you know he feels left out. He's figured out Deeks and I know about her."

There was that. He gave her a curt nod. "I will."

"Okay."

Callen looked around. Something was wrong. Even if there were only remnants left to sift through, something was throwing him off. He tapped his earwig. "Eric?"

"Yes, Callen?"

"Any word on the victims?"

"Not yet."

He turned to Kensi. "Have Deeks call LAPD again and _demand_ answers. I need to know who's died. Those four wounded can give witness statements, maybe they've seen something."

Kensi nodded and went in the direction for Deeks. Callen went back to Eric. "Eric, check if you can find Jay Fletcher. If so, let me know where he is?"

"On it, Callen. Who is he?"

"Jay's the chef. Early shift today."

It stayed quiet on the other end. Then he heard Nell's apprehensive voice. "Callen… We don't mean to pry… You know an awful lot about this café and its inhabitants."

He exhaled. "Yeah, I know. Deja's my girlfriend."

"Ah."

"So I need your absolute best on this, okay? The sooner we find the bastard, the faster this is over and everyone can go back home and be safe."

They didn't need more. "Got it."

Sam showed up in the door. "You found what you were looking for?"

Callen nodded towards the safe. "Safe doesn't have a scratch on it. It doesn't have a key, either."

"Safe not locked away in a cabinet somewhere?"

"Nope. Under the desk."

"What about the key?"

"It's the spare for the apartment. It's the only way I can think of that they could've entered without setting the entire alarm off immediately."

"The apartment doesn't have an alarm?"

Callen shrugged. "I tried. Dee insisted that having one at the café was enough."

"Can you think of anyone who might have it?"

"I've asked Eric to check for Jay, but I don't really think he has it, either."

Sam pursed his lips. "Bomb was C-4."

"That's not really a surprise," Callen said, standing up.

"It's not. But why rig the café instead of your house? If that's where she lives anyway?"

Callen picked up on Sam's irritated tone, but decided to ignore it. "It's a warning."

"A warning?"

"Of what he can do to her." His eyes lit up in remembrance and he tapped into Eric and Nell again. "Nell? Has Gibbs checked in yet?"

"I haven't heard Hetty about it yet. If he does, I'll make sure to patch him through."

"Thanks. Any luck finding Jay?"

"Not yet."

"Keep looking."

"Will do."

Callen turned around to Sam. "C-4 on a timer?"

"Yeah. They weren't here when it blew."

"Of course not." Callen sighed. "Let's go take a look at that message, maybe that I can get something else out of it."

But the message on the wall didn't make him any wiser than he already was. Frustrated, he looked at Deeks. "Anything?"

"Victims were all transported to Cedars-Sinai. Rose made some calls and found out names."

Callen braced himself. "Lindy? Jess?"

Deeks took in his set shoulders. "Jess is in the hospital; they're keeping her in a coma for the time being. It'll be touch and go for a while."

"What about Lindy, Deeks?"

Deeks swallowed. "Lindy didn't make it."

Callen swore under his breath. Now he had to go back and tell Dee that her best friend had died. "Has anyone called Ted?"

"The coroners office is working on it."

Callen was already halfway through the door. "We're going to make a detour to the house; go back to Ops, wait for Gibbs' call. We'll be at the boatshed."

Kensi and Deeks watched him go, his reluctant partner on his heels. Once out of sight, Deeks hurled a piece of what used to be a table at the wall. "It's not fair on him."

Kensi shook her head. "I know. It's not fair on Deja, either."

Taking a deep breath, Deeks nodded. "Yeah." He pulled his gloves off. "Come on, let's see if we can reach Gibbs."


	30. Chapter 30

And we're back! Thanks to all of you who have favorited and followed this story. :-)

Caroline: So sorry to hear that! Hope that the madness that was hurricane Matthew has slowed down a bit, and things are able to return to normal for you.

Now, on with the craziness that is NOL! Enjoy. :D

* * *

Sam stopped the Challenger next to the curb and looked at the house. "It looks relatively calm."

"Hmm." Callen's eyes scanned the area and he nodded. "Take the back just to be sure?"

"Yeah."

They got out; Sam going around back and Callen walked up to the front door with a key in his hand. Sam wasn't really surprised anymore when he walked into the yard. His partner had kept so much from him these past couple of months; he wasn't shocked that the back yard had changed as well. It just made him feel left out. Even Kensi and Deeks knew about Deja and all the changes Callen had made.

Meanwhile, on the front, Callen checked the street once again. Then he checked the front door to see if it was rigged. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. At last, he opened the door. Pulling his gun out of the waistband of his jeans, he circled through the house, opening the back door for Sam in the process. "Downstairs is clear," he whispered and went up the stairs. Sam followed suit, but upstairs was just as clean as the ground floor.

"All clear." Clearly relieved, Callen put his gun away and went to the closet. He threw some clothes in a bag, picked a picture of him and Deja from the nightstand and went back down again.

Sam quietly eyed the furniture and fresh wallpaper, the dining room with its paper-covered table and homely kitchen. It was a far cry from the house Callen had been living in. It was as transformed as Callen was himself.

Callen took something from the mantle that Sam couldn't see, threw it in the bag and took one final look around the room before deciding that he had everything he needed. "Come on. I need to talk to Gibbs."

The drive back to the boat shed was again a silent one. But Sam could feel himself on the boiling point. He needed answers and he needed answers fast.

"Shut your mouth." In the seat next to him, Callen shook his head and sighed. "You have every right to feel left out, okay? I'm sorry it came down to this. This was not how I pictured introducing you to her, but it has to do. And yes, Kensi and Deeks know. Deeks knows because he is a far better agent that the two of us give him credit for, and Kensi knows because she had to drive me home when I broke my shoulder. I couldn't _not_ tell her."

"Why could you _not_ tell me?"

"Because you push and meddle and treat me as if I can't do this on my own. I want to. I want to be able to do this on my own and it felt as if by telling you, this thing with her would be out of my hands and you'd try to get control over it. And you having control over or meddling in means that it'll end. It's not ending. This is it. And it's all it is because _I_ made it happen."

Sam took a deep, angry breath. "You don't mean that."

"Other than me saying 'I love you' to Deja, I've never been so serious in my life."

"You've kept the facts that you have a name, and a girlfriend that you're living with and a furnished house that I barely recognize all to yourself because you think I _meddle?"_

"I don't only think so, Sam, I know it. Even your wife thinks so. You would have my proposal ready when I wasn't looking and would just present me with the fact that it's time to get engaged and I would feel like I earned nothing of it. I wouldn't even be sure if it was the right girl."

"Is she?"

"She is way more than I deserve."

Sam huffed. "I don't meddle. I try to help."

Callen shook his head. "You don't try to help. I need you to be my partner and my friend, and I need you to help me solve this and find this guy so we can go back to our lives."

"You've deliberately kept me out of the loop."

Callen unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. "And I would do it all over again if I had to." He slammed the door and stalked over to the boatshed. Inside, he found his girlfriend and Hetty on the couch, talking to Eric on the screen.

Deja seemed okay, but he knew she was putting up a brave front. At least Hetty had given her a pair of jeans. Opening the bag, he fished out her favorite comfy sweater and handed it to her. "Here."

She gave him a watery smile. "Thank you."

He knelt in front of her, pushing that unruly lock out of the way. "How are you holding up?"

"Barely," she whispered. "But Hetty's keeping me company, with good tea, so it's sort of kept me occupied. I think."

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed her knee. "I'm afraid I have bad news, Dee."

For a moment, she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. "It's Lindy, right?"

"It is."

"How bad is it?" Although she was terrified of the answer, she had to know.

"Lindy didn't make it," he softly said. "I'm so sorry, baby."

She was trying to keep the tears at bay, but this morning had been madness and this was the final straw. A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another and another. Callen gathered her close, rubbing her back, whispering in her ear. But he couldn't make it better. He could only make sure he caught Bogdanov and made him pay.

Wiping her cheeks, Deja pulled back. "Does Ted know?"

"The coroners office has called him."

"And Jess?"

"Jess is in the hospital. Marty said they're keeping her in a coma for now. I don't know anything else."

"Okay." It wasn't okay, but it was all she was going to get now. There was no real time to deal with Lindy's death. They had to catch her killer.

"Callen?" Eric's voice broke in.

He looked up. "What is it, Eric?"

"Gibbs is calling."

He rose. "Put him up."

Gibbs' face showed up at the screen, his brows knotted together in concern. "What's going on?"

"Are all your agents accounted for, Jethro?" Callen didn't have time for small talk.

The question made Gibbs' brows knot even further together. "My agents? McGee is with Abby, Ellie is behind her desk."

"Have you heard from Tony and Ziva?"

"Though not technically my agents anymore… Paris." He studied his friend. "What aren't you telling me, Callen?"

Callen took a deep breath. "Bogdanov's son found me. He blew up Dee's café this morning. Two casualties, four wounded so far."

"Serbia."

"Yeah."

Gibbs rubbed the back of his head. "Does the director know?"

"I've briefed him, Agent Gibbs." Hetty walked into view.

Gibbs nodded at her. "Do you have any idea how he came to know about your whereabouts? Or Dee's for that matter?"

Callen shrugged. "No such thing as an erratic routine when there's a café involved."

"Mmm." Gibbs eyes fleeted to Deja, sitting behind Callen on the couch. "You okay, Dee?"

Deja gave him a curt nod. "I'm all right, Jethro."

Gibbs could tell that was not the entire truth, but chose not to ask any more questions. "I have no reason to believe that he's got people here. But I'll be careful, let the rest know, check in with Tony. Do you need help over there?"

"We're good. Keep your eyes open, though. If we don't catch him, he will come after you."

"Noted. Keep me in the loop." It was more order than request.

"Will do."

The screen went black and Callen pursed his lips at Eric. "Any word on Jay yet?"

Upon hearing the name, Deja looked up. "There's no word on Jay yet?"

Callen shook his head. "I'm trying to find him. Eric?"

"Cedar-Sinai, like Jess."

"So he's accounted for." He was weighing possibilities in his head, trying to figure out if he'd missed something. "Dee, you sure there's no-one else that has a key to the apartment? It wasn't in the safe."

"No…" Then, she turned to Eric. "Eric? Is there a record of Keira McMullen being admitted to the hospital?"

Eric's hands flew over his keypad. "No, no record of her in any hospital."

Swallowing, Deja locked eyes with Callen. "She's been acting strange for a while. I found her snooping around the office a few weeks back. She's coming in late; asking questions about the apartment upstairs, questions about us. I didn't think anything of it, but now that you haven't found the key in the safe… It might not be anything…"

"Or it might be everything." He turned to the screen. "Eric, Nell, find Keira. And do it fast."


	31. Chapter 31

And here is chapter 31! Enjoy!

FireFlower88: Saw, stop it! You're making me blush! :-) Really sweet of you to say so. Hope you got to class on time after all. ;-) Here's the next chapter.

Caroline: Don't worry, the bad guys will get what they deserve.

* * *

Hetty eyed Deja from across the room. The girl had been awfully silent since Callen and Sam had gone to the hospital to interview witnesses. It was a long shot, but worth pursuing anyway.

She hadn't moved in a while. Her eyes were serious; staring at a point on the wall Hetty couldn't see. The corners of her lips, which were usually turned up in a smile, were set. She'd been chewing on the inside of her cheek, twirling her bracelet around her wrist as she had been doing most of the day.

Although Callen had said that she'd taken the news of his job fairly well, this was not something she was prepared for. To lose her life's work, her friends… As accepting as she might have been of his job, this asked for acceptance, tolerance, on a whole new level. Hetty had no doubt that she would, but it would take time and it was going to cause tension between them. Hetty knew they'd come out of this stronger, but she was apprehensive at finding out at what cost.

Quietly, Hetty approached Deja; a new pot of hot water in her hands. "Would you like some more tea, dear?"

Startled, Deja pulled her eyes away from the wall. "Yes, Hetty, thank you." She accepted the cup and saucer from the older woman.

Hetty took the seat next to her. "How are you doing? Really?"

It was quiet for longer than she'd anticipated. "I'm not sure what to tell you." A lone tear slipped down Deja's cheek, which she angrily wiped away. "So many things have happened in a little more than half a day… The café is gone. Lindy is… Lindy is gone. Jess and Jay are both in the hospital. Keira is probably not who she says she is. There's a threat out there, which is why I'm here and Grisha is out there trying to find who-ever it is that did this. And I worry. On a normal day, I worry, but this feels like it's suffocating me. I don't know how you do this every day."

Hetty patted her hand. "It's why I'm the operations manager and you're his girlfriend."

"Yeah, but you're his mother, too."

Then there was that. "Well, that is something you and I know, but the rest of this office not that much. But you're right. I'm relieved to see they're all safe at the end of the day, too."

"Yet you let them go."

"I do." She chose her next words very carefully. "Deja, if I don't let them go every time there's a threat to national security… A whole lot more people would die. And I would have so much more to worry about than just them. So I choose to worry about them. I choose to trust their training, and their ability to do everything they can to make this world a little safer."

Deja nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah."

Again, silence settled over them. "You met Gibbs."

"I have." Deja put her cup back on its saucer. "He and Grisha try to Skype once every six weeks or so. Somebody taught Jethro so he could stay in touch. I walked in on a conversation they were having, so Grisha had to introduce me." The corners of her lips pulled up in a wry smile. "The man doesn't use much words, but I've learned to read his expressions over the months. He's a good friend to Grisha." She paused, biting her lower lip. "Does this happen often?"

"What? The bombing of a café?"

"The past coming back to haunt him?"

Hetty thought about it for a moment. "The past has a way of catching up with us, no matter what we do."

"But in his line of work? Does this happen often?"

"Not often. But sometimes the things we've done come back to bite us in the butt. It's not with every case or everything we do." Hetty studied the younger women beside her. "I don't think that is what you're really worried about right now."

"It's not." Deja took a breath, pushing her hair out of her face. "I don't want to blame him, Hetty, I really don't. It's not his fault…" She halted.

"But something makes you feel that he's to blame?"

"Am I being terrible for thinking that?"

Weighing her words, Hetty shook her head. "I don't think you're terrible for thinking that. Not at all. And as horrible as losing your café and your best friend is, I do think that you should look at the bigger picture. Because if he hadn't killed that arms dealer, a whole lot more people would've been killed."

"I know that." Briskly, Deja stood up and walked over to the window.

Hetty followed her. "But that is not how it feels."

Shaking her head, Deja wiped more tears away. "It's not. And the more time I take to think about it, the more I hear this voice in the back of my head saying that if I hadn't met him, if I didn't love him the way I do, none of this would've happened."

"True as that might be, my dear, it would also mean that you wouldn't have with him what you have right now."

"Mmm." Still no committed answer.

"Besides, have you thought about how much Grisha will beat himself up over this?"

"He's not, now." It came out as a frustrated spat.

"It may look like that, but trust me, he is. More than he shows. The reason that he's running throughout LA right now, is to make sure that you're not going to get hurt more than you already are. And he blames himself for it. He'll doubt loving you more than you're doubting loving him in this very moment. Because to him it feels as if this is his fault. He's allowed himself to open up to you, to get under his skin, to love you, and in the process of healing himself, he put you in danger."

Deja narrowed her eyes. "He couldn't have known they'd come after me."

The corners of Hetty's mouth pulled up. Finally, she was getting somewhere. "He couldn't have. But to him it will feel like he should've paid better attention. He's trained to pay attention, Deja. And in this life he's created with you, he slipped up, putting you and everything you love, in danger."

Pensive, Deja wrapped her arms around herself and stared out of the window. Silence, again, stretched between them. Then she took a breath. "I love him, Hetty. I love him more than I've ever loved anyone. And I've promised him that I would never leave him because of his job, and I want to keep that promise… God knows I want to keep that promise." She shivered. "And much as I don't want him to blame himself for all of this happening, deep down, something tells me that he _is_ to blame for this. And it's going to be a hurdle and cause us both a lot, if we want to overcome this."

"You'll be stronger together when you do."

"That's confident."

Hetty shrugged. "Well, what can I say? I've seen the two of you together. You make each other better. But you are going to have to talk about this. Work it out. Once everything has settled down a bit. If you do it now, it'll be a mess and you'll do more hurt that it'll do you good."

"Yeah." She went back to staring out of the window, and Hetty left her there.

This was one mountain they had to climb together. She could only hope they would.


	32. Chapter 32

Hi guys! Here's the next chapter. It's a bit shorter than normal, but I have such a hard time with it, that I keep cutting it in pieces. Will be glad when all this technical stuff is done with in the next chapter. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Callen slammed the car door closed. The interviews at the hospital had been useless, and that was an understatement. Nobody had seen anything, and the two people he had wanted to see, were unavailable. He couldn't seem to catch a break.

He was angry with himself. He should've paid more attention. To everything. To their surroundings, to things that were not the way they were supposed to be. But he'd been captivated with her, with this life he was building with her. He'd been too busy with his own healing to pay attention to what was happening around him. And he blamed himself for her being hurt.

"This is not your fault," Sam mentioned as he took a corner. "I know you go all over-protective of those you love and care for… This is not on you."

However thankful he was for his friend saying that, he knew better. The Special Agent in him would rationalize that there were less to no signs he could've paid attention to, but Grisha Callen, the man madly in love with Deja Barrow, didn't feel that way. He should've protected her better. Of him. Of his lifestyle. Of the dangers his job brought with it.

"I should've noticed something." Clenching his fists and shifting in his seat, he shook his head. "I should've kept her safe."

Sam understood where he was coming from. "I don't think she's going anywhere."

"Maybe not right now."

"If she loves you, she won't go anywhere. She may not like you for a while, but she won't leave you."

Callen didn't respond for a while. He stared out of the window. Sam was afraid he'd retracted back into his shell, when he started talking. "It was the first place out of work where I could be me," he said. "The first time I met her, I'd been driving around after the case with Nadir. Something struck with me, and I was restless. I ended up at _Indulge._ She served me _borsjst_ with soda bread. The first time I looked into those eyes, something clicked. She seemed to look right through me. And then I took a bite…" More silence. Then a deep breath. "And then I saw my mother. I saw my mother in our kitchen, back in Romania, and Amy giggling at me and I remembered."

His partner quietly listened as he told him about the first time he met Deja. How he'd broken down, tried to pull himself back together to find Deja hunched down next to him, asking him if he was okay. That he hadn't been prepared for happy memories at all. Or for the way she treated him. And that he, after that, against everything Hetty had told him about an inconsistent schedule, just kept coming back to the café, to her.

He hadn't meant to fall in love with her, but he found himself fascinated with her. She'd liked him too, and they'd started dating. "For the first time in my life, I found myself sharing things voluntarily; about the foster homes, about me growing up, about my family. Things about me. I even told her about the job, expecting her to run away, but she stayed anyway. I should've made her leave."

Sam parked the car outside of Ops and turned to his partner, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "What the hell are you saying that?"

Callen shrugged. "None of this would've happened if she hadn't stayed."

"Maybe. They would've found another way to get to you. She stayed because she loves you. She'll stay because she loves you. Trust that."

Judging by the look on his face, he didn't, but he got out of the car, so Sam couldn't comment on it further. Up in Ops, Kensi and Deeks were helping Eric and Nell to tie loose ends together. One look at his face and Deeks took a deep breath. He tugged on Callen's sleeve. "Come on."

Sam wanted to interfere, but Kensi shook her head at him. Once the doors had closed behind them, she spoke. "Let Deeks work some magic, all right? He'll shut himself out. And I hate to tell you, but Deeks is your best shot right now, if you don't want him to shut himself out completely."

"Why?"

"Because Deeks knows exactly what he feels."

Outside, Deeks had worked Callen into a corner. "You need to snap out of it," he softly chided. "You're not helping this case if you keep telling yourself you should've done something to prevent it. It doesn't work this way."

Callen looked at him, exhaling slowly. "Something I've done in the past came back to haunt me and it hurt her in the process."

"It did. It still does. It will hurt for a while longer. But you're not to blame for what happened. Bogdanov is to blame for all that happened, not you." Deeks frowned at him. "I know I'd go crazy too, if this was about Kensi, but you need to keep it together until we've got him. We need you focused on finding him, so you can put a bullet in his brain and keep her safe."

Knowing Deeks was right, he nodded. "I'll do my best."

"You're going to give it all you have. Because this is _her_ , okay?" Marty wrapped his arms around his friend for a brief moment. "Let's go, the Wonder Twins have found something."

Sam didn't comment when they walked back into the room, but Kensi winked at him and gave him an encouraging smile. Callen cleared his throat. "Deeks says you've found something."

"We have." Nell swiped her screen. "This is Keira McMullen aka Masha Toporov. It took us a while to find her. She's been missing for a few years. Twenty, came in to the States on a fake passport almost a year ago. She's a student at LAU. After lots of digging, we found her tuition is being paid by Egor Bogdanov."

Callen knotted his brows. "What is their connection? There has to be a reason he's paying her tuition."

Eric spoke up. "We found that Bogdanov has not only picked up his father's arms dealing, but he is suspected from setting up a human trafficking ring. Our best guess is that Masha is one of those girls, but she must've wormed her way close to him as a way of surviving. Far as we know, he's only using her to find you."

"So she's a victim, too." He paused, piecing the information together. "Still, LA is big. And when she came to work for Dee, we hadn't even started dating yet."

Nell bit her lip. "I think he got lucky you started dating Deja."

It took a moment to sink in. Callen swore under his breath. "I should've stayed away."

Deeks wouldn't let him linger. "Have you checked if Bogdanov entered the country?"

Eric pulled up a different screen. "He did. A week ago, under the name of Oliver McMullen. He's here as Masha's big brother, a business man who deals in antiques."

Callen stared at the photo for a while. "Did you get an address? Where is he staying?"

"He's alternating between a warehouse downtown and an apartment. Addresses are on your phone."

Nodding, Callen mentioned to Sam. "Let's find him."


	33. Chapter 33

Hi all! And here it is, the last 'technical' chapter. I've been going back and forth, deleting, re-writing it more than once. And suddenly, this came out. Caro, thanks so much, I wouldn't have pulled through without you. :-)

Let me know what you think!

* * *

The apartment was empty. Keira was nowhere in sight, and it looked as if there had been a struggle. So off in the direction of the warehouse they went. Callen send Kensi and Deeks with a camera to see if there was any way he could get a visual from the outside. If not, they needed to break in without knowing anything, and Callen rather not do that. He could go in guns blazing, but for all he knew, the guy had his own small army and they wouldn't come out alive.

Deeks ducked by a window. "He has a tiny army with him. Counting at least four armed men, far as I can see."

"Any sign of Keira?"

He changed the position of the camera a few times, only to come up empty. "Negative."

Callen barked orders at his team, gearing up. "Go and see if you can find Keira and other girls. Try not to make it an entire bloodbath. I'd rather have him alive than dead." He wasn't going to wait for backup from the FBI or LAPD. It needed to be over.

Drawing his gun, he and his partner took the front entrance. There were more men in the building than Deeks had seen. But stealthily taking them out one by one, they moved in the direction of Bogdanov.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!"

He didn't seem particularly surprised. "Так что вы нашли меня." _So you have found me._

"Tell them to drop their weapons, Bogdanov! You're surrounded."

"I'm surprised it took you this long to find me.'' He turned around and let his eyes survey the room. ''I do hope you're hurting. You deserve that.''

''Yeah?'' Callen prepped his gun. ''You want to make me hurt? I've already lost my parents and my sister. I felt what you're feeling long before you did.''

Bogdanov's eyes narrowed. ''That was why she was the only one that I could get. I heard she didn't make it.''

Callen's eyes flickered to Sam, a frown on his face. Then it hit him. Keira had told him that Deja hadn't made it. That he'd been succesfull in killing her. Judging by Sam's expression, he'd figured the same thing. ''She didn't. And with her, my will to live or to be careful went out the window, too. You better surrender now, Bogdanov, because the only other way you're going out of here, is in a bodybag.''

"And here I am, protected by all these men. You really think you're going to get close?"

In answer, a bodyguard close to him dropped. Sam indicated that they could move a bit closer. Bogdanov wasn't impressed. He shrugged. "Ah." He raised his hands. "You can kill all of them, agent Callen. I only have to activate a timer, tell you where to find the girls, and while you're busy saving them before all of this goes boom, I can walk out of here a free man."

Just then, Callen heard Kensi in his ear. "Callen? We've found Keira and the other girls. I'm sending Deeks in your direction now." He nodded at Sam, and inched closer still.

"I really hate to burst your bubble, but we have already found the girls. It's just you and me, now."

That did throw Bogdanov for a loop. He hesitated for a moment. "So you want to fight this out?"

"What I really want is to put a bullet in your head. But I'll settle for bringing you in and locking you up."

"I'm standing behind them," Callen heard Deeks say. "Shot is clear."

Bogdanov mentioned to his bodyguards. "Find him. Kill him." Then he turned around, a scornful smile on his lips. "You see, I have more men here. They'll find you. And when they find you, I'm going to make you hurt even more."

"Deeks, take a shot at the bodyguards if you have it." Sam took a breath. "Do you want to wait for it?"

"Not really." Callen rose, aimed and shot. Between the three agents, the bodyguards were down before Bogdanov could blink twice.

But Bogdanov wasn't all that stupid. He'd moved in the direction of the exit, taking cover. Callen wasn't about to let him go. Again, he took position, aimed and hit Bogdanov in his knee.

The man staggered on his feet, more surprised than anything. Callen came into view. "Это был для Маша." _This one was for Masha._ Again, he aimed. The other knee. "Это один для Линди и Джесс." _This one is for Lindy and Jess._

He wasn't going to let Dee get hurt again, if it was the last thing he did. "Это одно, это женщина, которую я люблю." _This one, this is for the woman I love._ And he shot him right between the eyes.

"Are you sure you want to handle this yourself?"

Callen nodded, his eyes already diverted to the hall. "I know how to do my job, Hetty. Let me do my job."

Hetty let him go, turning to the screen. Keira had seen the medic, she was fit enough to be heard.

She looked up when Callen opened the door, her eyes filling with tears. "Grisha…"

Callen didn't respond as he pulled the chair back and sat down. Then he took a breath. "Is it Masha or Keira? Which one do you prefer?"

That was not the question she had expected. She swallowed. "Nobody has called me Masha in a while." She squared her shoulders. "Keira is fine."

"How do you know Bogdanov?"

"My parents sold me to him when I was seventeen. He came into town, all charms, with promises of opportunities. They wanted me to have a better life." Her eyes hardened. "So much for a better life."

"Why did he send you to LA?"

"To find you. Needle in a haystack, really. All he had to go on was a rumour that you were in the area."

"Why you?"

"I volunteered. I'd sugared up to him ever since I was with him and I found out what exactly it was he did. Since I'm the only one who could speak English, he let me go. Anything to get away from him." She closed her eyes. "I didn't want to leave the girls, but I figured that as long as I didn't have to be his slave anymore, maybe I could find a way to help them. Help all of us."

Callen studied her. "How come you speak English?"

"I had a friend when I was little whose mother was Irish; she taught us before they all moved back to Ireland." She gave him a small smile. "For a long time, it was all I had to keep me sane. Growing up poor means you have to be inventive."

"Why did you enrol at UCLA?"

"I convinced him that I'd have a better chance at finding you if I got a job and pretended to be a student. Bigger network, more connections. I'd blend in more. For all he knew you could be working at the university." She fidgeted with her fingers. "At least for a while I had some sort of normal life."

"How did you find me?"

She looked up; licked her lips. "I wasn't even looking. I was gathering evidence to get the girls out; every time he sent someone to check on me and my progress, I'd feed them some dumb story about how LA was huge and I couldn't exactly find you in the yellow pages. He'd leave me alone for a few months after that. It wasn't until Deja hired me and you came down the stairs that morning and she introduced you that it clicked. I swear I wasn't even looking for you, Grisha."

Callen crossed his arms. "Why did he attack _Indulge_? Why not the house?"

"He was counting on Deja being there, instead of that he house. I didn't tell him that you'd moved in."

"Why didn't you confide in Dee? Or Lindy? Or Jess? We could've helped you."

Her stare was unwavering. "I didn't know what you did for a living. I couldn't confide in anyone until I had gathered enough evidence, and before I did, he'd caught up with me; figured out that I had been stalling and came here. You think I'm proud of all this? You don't think I blame myself? If I had opened my mouth, maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe the café would still be there. Maybe I didn't have to bear the weight of putting Deja in danger. Maybe I wouldn't have to bear the weight of death on my shoulders. But where I come from, authorities are not to be trusted. And much as I like you, you carry a gun, and I don't know what you do. So I keep myself safe."

"What did you tell him?"

"As little as possible. And that's not because he didn't try." She pulled on her shirt and revealed cigarette marks. Burn marks. Cuts. "I wanted to keep all of you safe, but I had to give him something." Her voice caught. "So I sent him to the café, knowing that Deja was taking all late shifts this week. Told him that the earlier he struck, the likelier it was that he'd catch her."

"Why didn't you send him after me?"

"Because he didn't want to kill you. He was going to make you desperate enough to kill yourself. He was going to torture the hell out of you; first by killing her and then slowly doing it to all the other people you cared about." She swallowed. "I'm not dumb, Grisha. Marty and Kensi both carry guns too, they behave the same as you do. They first check every centimetre of the café before they sit anywhere, always with their face to the entrance. I figured that you'd have some sort of backup, and that if Deja was at the house, you'd find a way to keep her safe."

"I did."

She nodded. "You did."

"What was Bogdanov going to do with the girls we found in the warehouse?"

"They were going to be sold. Sex slaves to some South-American cartel."

"And you?"

She shrugged. "I don't think there'd be much left of me once he was done."

Callen's eyes softened. Although she wasn't completely blameless in all this, she'd tried to contain the damage done. She'd actually helped save Dee. There was one more thing. "What happened to the evidence you gathered?"

"There's a key in my uni locker. A safety deposit at the bank."

When he came back into the main room, he threw the file on the table and walked over to where Deja was standing. He sighed. There was something in her eyes he couldn't put his finger on. Something that was not right, but honestly, he was going to worry about it later. She was here, she was safe and he could hold her.

"Is it done now?" Her voice was small and he could tell she was exhausted.

He gathered her close. "Yeah baby, it's done."


	34. Chapter 34

Hi guys! Sorry it took me so long to put this chapter up. Life's been chaos these last couple of weeks, and it's not going to let up anytime soon, so there might be longer between chapters than I would like. Bear with me, please? ;-)

Enjoy!

* * *

Deja stepped into the house. She sniffed, cleared her throat and went on into the kitchen, busying herself with the kettle. Then she stopped and stared outside. Grisha quietly closed the front door behind him. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he dropped his keys in the bowl.

It had been a few days since _Indulge_ had been blown up. They had buried Lindy earlier that morning and she'd been awfully quiet. He knew it bothered her. It bothered her that his job had come so close. And it bothered her that she couldn't tell anyone about the real reason the café was no longer there. She couldn't tell Ted that it had been his fault for not paying more attention to the things around him; she couldn't say to anyone that the reason she'd lost her best friend and her café, was because he hadn't been able to protect her.

Grisha watched her. Her shoulders were set, as they had been since they'd left the boatshed. He'd figured he should give her a bit of time; give her a moment to process everything that had happened. It was easy to see it overwhelmed her, but he didn't want to push.

To be honest, he was terrified of what she would say when she finally would start to talk. He didn't want to lose her, and despite her promise that she would never go because of his job, something in the back of his mind told him that he'd come close. He also realized that he would never make her keep her promise; she either wanted to stay and face it, face him, going to work every morning, or she didn't. And he couldn't blame her if she decided she couldn't do it. His heart would be broken beyond repair, but he wouldn't make her stay.

He loosened his tie and joined her in the kitchen. He desperately wanted to touch her, but she'd avoided him and he didn't want to see her flinch. So he sat down in an empty chair. Wordlessly, Deja prepared tea and handed him a cup. Then she turned back to the window.

The tension got thicker by the minute, and if she hadn't started talking, he would have. "Jay is going to be fine," she softly said.

"That's good news."

She nodded. "It is."

Silence stretched out like a blanket that was trying to suffocate him. He wanted this to end. He wanted to know if she was going to stay or if she was going to go. These past few days had been hell. She'd withdrawn into a place he couldn't seem to reach her, no matter what he did. And he hated it that he couldn't. He absolutely hated it. This was the person who'd taught him to talk, to open up, and that he felt he couldn't do that with her now, bothered him to no extent. He despised it.

Dee took a deep breath. "The insurance company called this morning. They're coming to look at the damage on Wednesday."

"That is quick. You want me to come with?"

"No, I'll be fine." She sipped her tea. After another moment, she started again. "It's not entirely your fault, you know."

He looked up. "Maybe not entirely. But most of it is." Oh, how he blamed himself for hurting her like this. No matter what, he'd make it up to her, even if it killed him.

Dee turned around. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I couldn't keep you safe." He swallowed. "I put myself in harms way every day because it makes the world a better place, and to protect you. And I can't even do that." His nostrils flared. "I can't even protect you because I don't pay enough attention to the things around us with you." The breath he took shuddered and his voice caught, releasing all pend up emotion. "Because when I'm with you, all I see is you. I don't pay enough attention to the rest. And you got hurt because I didn't."

He saw she was trying to fight tears. "I don't want to blame you…"

"You should."

"… because I know that it's not entirely your fault. Keira tried to protect us, far as she could and you kept me safe." She paused, trying to think of words that weren't going to hurt him. Finding none, she continued. "I don't want to blame you. I know you blame yourself, and I don't want to add any more guilt on that pile. I really don't. But every time I look at you, all I see is what I've lost…" She choked on her tears, but powered through. "I love you. God knows I love you. I just don't know how to like you now."

He didn't know how to like himself, either. And that left them in a rut. It left them with guilt being dished out in a place where it didn't need to be. Silently, he nodded. "I don't like myself either, Dee. And I would understand it if this is all too much. It's not supposed to come so close. It's supposed to stay at a distance, somewhere where you know it's present but it can't hurt you." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I'm not going to keep you to your promise if you want to leave."

She opened her mouth to protest, but instead of words, there were more tears. "Don't say that…"

"I mean it." He rose and walked over to where she was standing, putting his cup on the counter. "I'm not going to keep you to it. And I don't care that it'll break my heart, because the only thing I want for you is to be happy. And if I can't make you happy, I have to let you go."

"It's not you that has me unhappy. It's this crazy situation that does."

"It's a situation that I put you in."

"That is not true."

"Isn't it?"

She was crying now. "It's not. I choose to believe it's not. But some voice in the back of my mind keeps saying that if I hadn't met you, hadn't fallen in love with you, none of this would've happened. But that goes for so many other things too. If I hadn't met you, we wouldn't have this love between us, and we wouldn't be together. And we'd be missing out, because we're good together."

"We are," he whispered. "We're good together."

She nodded. "And I love you, but this is difficult."

"I know." Tentatively, he touched her arm. When she didn't flinch or pulled away, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. For the first time in a few days, she let herself be hugged. Grisha swallowed hard. "I wish I could make it easier, babe." It stayed quiet again. Then he squared his shoulders. "Tell me to quit."

Her eyes flicked to his, caught off guard. "What?"

"Tell me to quit and I will."

Hesitating, Dee took a deep breath. Then she shook her head. "No."

"I mean it."

The answer didn't change. "No."

"Why? All it's cost you is worry, and stress, and your best friend and your work… It's not fair that you…"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "Asking you to give it up wouldn't be fair either. I'll have trust issues, because your job is dangerous on a completely different level than I thought it was. And I'll have to wrap my head around the fact that it may come close; closer than we both would like. But don't stop protecting anyone because I'm scared."

"I'll pay more attention," Grisha said. "I'll pay so much more attention and I'll keep you safe."

"Long as you don't smother me." She smiled, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Will you give me time?"

Eternity, if that was what she needed. "Of course."

More silence. Dee toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "We're going to have to move, don't we?"

He'd thought he'd have more time before telling her that, but apparently, she'd figured it out. "Yes." He hugged her tighter. "It's not something negative per se, you know."

"Isn't it?"

"It'll be the first home we choose together. We can figure out what we want exactly, and make new memories. It'll be a new beginning after everything that has happened last week." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "But let's take this hurdle first, okay? We'll figure out what to do with the house after that." He felt her nod under his chin.

"Okay."

That small word gave him hope. "Okay."


	35. Chapter 35

Hello! So, here's the next instalment in this saga. ;-) Thanks for sticking with me, and all new followers, welcome! :D Let me know what you think.

* * *

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. Normally, she would be up with him, making breakfast, chatting away about everything and nothing, but she was having trouble sleeping ever since Lindy's funeral.

Her chest rose and fell with every breath she took. Her hair fanned out over her pillow. Softly, he tucked a strand in behind her ear. The past month had been a constant struggle. He wanted things to be better, and because of that he was pushing, talking, struggling to make changes she thought he didn't have to make. They had taken long walks on the beach, talking about her fears of his job, the hurt she felt now that Lindy was gone, and how he feared he would not be able to protect her in the long run. He tried not to be overly protective, but she'd called him out on smothering her more times than he dared to count. It was a delicate balance, but one they were slowly reinventing and tried to make work.

Thankfully, Kensi had been there, on more than one occasion, for a girls' night out. If only to let her vent about how he was getting on her nerves. He would spend those nights with Deeks, sometimes Sam, bonding, talking. He had even introduced Dee to Michelle, and Michelle took her out to lunch and made sure she had someone else to talk to, too. It helped. But they still had a ways to go. They were improving, though. And each time she kissed him and just took a breath before sending him out of the door was a blessing, no matter how much time there was between those mornings. Grisha considered them victorious. Every time he left he wanted to promise her that he'd come back without a scratch on him, only to realize that that was not a promise he could make.

Looking at his watch, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "I love you."

Maybe it was good for her to spend some time with her family. And although he'd miss her terribly, perhaps it would give her some space to think things through. Decide whether or not she wanted to re-open _Indulge_ or do something else altogether. Hetty had been hinting about the house, but he had let Eric and Nell fine-tune the alarm system and for now that had to do. Yes, giving her time off was a good idea.

He'd been so immersed in thought that he hadn't seen the figure coming to him in the hallway at the mission. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He looked up, startled. "Jeez, Deeks, you almost scared me."

Deeks grinned at him. "I can't remember the last time I was able to startle you."

"Don't get used to it," he warned.

"You okay?"

Callen dumped his bag on his desk and walked passed Deeks to get his tea. "Getting better every day."

Deeks patted his shoulder. "Give it time. It's still a lot to deal with."

"I know."

From upstairs, Nate was standing next to Hetty. "Callen looks good," he observed. "Bit stressed, but not more than normal."

"That's just the way he stands."

Nate glanced in her direction. "You sure you just want _his_ evals? It's almost time for everyone else's, too."

"Start with him, please, Mr. Getz."

Nate had learned long ago not to argue with the older woman. "Alright." He lingered. "Anything you want me to know before I try and coax things out of him?"

"Just that he's been happier."

That didn't tell him an awful lot, other than that Callen had something or someone to be happy about. Maybe he and Joelle had gotten back together? Mmm… maybe not. He'd just keep an open mind and try to talk to him. Everything he could find out would only be beneficial.

Kensi was the first to spot him. "Nate!"

He wrapped her in a warm hug. "Hey, Kensi."

The men shook his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Deeks tilted his head in Callen's direction without Callen seeing it. But Nate saw it, and that was what mattered.

"Yearly evals."

"Already?"

"They're overdue, actually." A little white lie that wasn't going to hurt anyone. "And the sooner they're done, the better. Anyone volunteering to go first?"

With lame excuses, Kensi, Deeks and Sam filtered out of the bullpen, leaving Nate with Callen. A small smile tugged on Callen's lips. "Do you still have an office here?"

Nate laughed, too. "How about a walk outside?"

Maybe that was better. Nate was surprised Callen hadn't tried to get away first chance he got. He did look a bit more relaxed, although his shoulders were still tense. Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in a booth, Nate with coffee and Callen stirring absentmindedly in a cup of tea.

"How are things?"

"Getting better."

"Does that mean that they weren't… good?"

Callen lifted his eyes to him and sighed. "What has Hetty told you?"

"Hetty hasn't told me anything."

"Hhm."

His raised eyebrow told Nate enough. Nate pulled one shoulder up. "You don't have to believe me," he said. "And I know that you're not good at sharing, but she worries. Somebody has to."

Grisha bit his lip. He still wasn't great at sharing, especially not when it came to his feelings, but he was trying. Maybe it was time he tried it with Nate, too. If not for himself, for Dee. Anything for Dee. So he took a deep breath. "Things have been a bit tense."

"How come?"

"I want her to be safe. I _need_ her to be safe. I keep double-checking every place we go and it drives her crazy. She's told me I'm overprotective and smothering on more than one occasion."

Nate wasn't surprised to hear that. "Who tells you that?"

"Deja."

That wasn't a name Nate had heard before, but judging by the way Grisha's eyes lit up and laughed with just the mention of her name, she meant something special. "Why does she say that?"

"Probably because it's true," Grisha mumbled. He shrugged and shifted in his seat. "What would you do if an arms dealer blew up the café of the woman you love just so he could get back at you? Wouldn't you get overprotective?"

If Nate was surprised to hear openly admit that he loved Deja, whoever she was, he didn't show it. Nate nodded, silently encouraging him. "I would. I'd drive her crazy with wanting to watch out all the time."

"Exactly." Grisha sighed, swallowing, but didn't elaborate.

"Did she know about your job before all that happened?"

"She did. Didn't expect it to come so close, though." He hesitated but decided that since he was being honest and open, he might as well just give Nate everything he struggled with. Scary as it was. "To be honest, _I_ hadn't thought it could anymore. Not really. Everything was going great. Life got easier." He frowned. "I don't know why I thought it would last. For just one moment I thought I'd caught a break."

Nate pursed his lips, not saying anything.

"Hetty hasn't told you that I bought an engagement ring either?"

Now _that_ was news. "Hetty hasn't even told me that you had someone like Deja in your life," Nate said. "So, no, she didn't tell me about you buying an engagement ring either."

"Well, I did. Two weeks before everything blew up. I was trying to figure out when and where to propose, but now this happened and everything just… I haven't asked her anything yet. I've just prayed that she wants to stay."

"Are you afraid that she will leave?"

"Terrified." He clenched his jaw, not looking up at Nate. "Nothing to say to that?"

"Other than that is normal for you to feel after you've been abandoned all your life?" Nate shook his head. "I'm surprised you're telling me all this. Normally, you're deflecting me within ten seconds." Nate studied him. "How long has it been since the bombing?"

"Little over a month."

"And she's still with you?"

Silently, he nodded.

"And you're talking about what happened?"

Another nod.

"That's good, then, right? The fact that you're sharing all this stuff, with me, with her most of all, is great."

Grisha swallowed, turning his head to look out of the window. "What if we work through this and she decides that I'm still not good enough?"

It came out as a whisper and Nate had to strain to hear him. He thought about it for a while. This was Grisha's million dollar question. What if he, after everything he had done and changed, still wasn't good enough for her?

Nate decided to ask him a question in return. "Was her initial reaction similar to Joelle's when you told her about the job?"

Grisha stilled for a minute. "No. It was different."

"How was it different?"

"I'd broken my shoulder during a chase. And I had been wondering how to tell her about the job, so when that happened I couldn't not tell her. She asked me questions, a million of them, then decided that she thought it suited me. That she'd be worried about me, but that I had to stop defending myself for being who I am…"

Nate watched the glimmer of hope rise in his eyes and nodded. "And what did she say after her café blew up?" If she was still with him after the things that had happened the past couple of weeks, she was going to stay. Nate had a hunch.

It dawned on him. "That she hated the situation. Not… not me." Grisha chewed over it. "She wouldn't let me quit, either." The corners of his lips pulled up ever so slightly. "She calls me the love of her life; a gentleman. Future father of her children."

The fact that his eyes were smiling more than his mouth was, told Nate more than hearing he'd bought an engagement ring and that she'd said she thought of him as the love of her life. Even though he hadn't met Deja, she had to be headstrong and good for Grisha on levels Grisha had never considered. The fact that he was opening up the way he was, was more progress in eighteen months than Nate had gotten in the six years before.

"Still?"

"Still."

"Well, then. Good for you."

Grisha nodded. "She is." Finally, he looked up. "You should meet her."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come to dinner. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have someone to cook for that's not just me, and you'll get to see what she's like."

So that is what he did. That night, he followed him home and met Deja. Her smile was radiant, but didn't completely reach her eyes. She'd seen through him the moment he stepped through the door. "So, you work with Grisha, too." She shook his hand. "The observant type."

Grisha pressed a kiss to her head. "He means no harm, Dee. He just wants to meet you."

"I know." She let her breath out. "Sorry. It's nice to meet you. And if Grisha voluntarily invites you over, you must be a good friend."

"I try," Nate said, silently adding the name he hadn't heard before and the homely interior of the house to the list of changes he'd seen in the agent today.

Over dinner, they discussed everything except work and what had happened to Deja's café. She put up a brave face, but Nate noticed the way her smile didn't reach her eyes and her smile wavered in the corners. After dinner, when Grisha was occupied with a phone call from Sam, he joined her in the kitchen.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner."

She looked up from loading the dishwasher. "You're very welcome."

"Callen's told me what happened to your café, and your friends. I'm sorry."

Her hand hesitated above a plate and she bit her lip. Then she straightened up. "Thank you." Her lips pulled into a half-smile. "Has he told you that it's been hard on me?"

"He has."

"Do you think I'm overreacting?"

Nate shook his head. "Of course not. Do you?"

Deja pursed her lips and shrugged. "I don't know. Something like this has never happened to me before, so I don't know how to respond to it, other than like this." Pausing, her eyes drifted outside. "I know it's hard on him, too. He tries to reign himself in when it comes to protecting me, but he sees me struggle… It's hard on him too." She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You've just lost everything; your café, your best friend… It's normal to be grieving," Nate soothed.

She sniffed, fingering the tea towel thrown over her shoulder. "It feels so much heavier than just grieving."

Nate felt for her. "It's a lot you're grieving for at once; your work, your friends, an employee you thought you could trust. And to some extent you're probably grieving for the relationship you had with Callen before all this happened."

Her brow knotted. "What do you mean?"

"Wasn't it carefree? At least a little?"

Cautiously, she nodded, not understanding where he was taking this. "Not completely. But at least it wasn't complicated the way it is now."

"And now that you really know what it is he does for a living, that little part of ignorant bliss will never come back the way it was. And as you're trying to wrap your head around his job and the consequences it might have, you're grieving for the innocence it had."

She eyed him, guarded. "Being observant is part of your job. You're like Grisha, but different."

"I'm a psychologist," Nate offered. "Not that he brought me here to hear you out, but sometimes it helps to hear an impartial opinion."

"Maybe." She tilted her head to one side. "Do you think that? That I'm grieving for the way the relationship was before all this happened?"

"It would be a normal reaction."

"Mmm." For a moment, the only sound was Grisha's voice in the distance. "I hadn't thought of that," she said, wringing the tea towel now in her hands. "Because I've been so busy grieving for Lindy and the café, and trying to wrap my head around everything else that has happened… I've tried so hard not to blame him for everything…"

Nate smiled. "And that's okay, Deja. Nobody wakes up the next morning and has dealt with something like this. It takes time. Give yourself time. Give Callen time to fall back into some sort of normal pattern, too. As long as the two of you keep talking, you'll be fine."

She answered his smile. "I'll try."


	36. Chapter 36

Hi, all! I'm sorry this has taken ages to put up. Life won't settle down, so loads of ideas on how to continue, with very little time to do so.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Welcome home, Ms. Barrow." The customs officer handed her back her passport and smiled.

"Thank you." Deja took her carry-on luggage and went to get her suitcase. It felt good to be back in England. Strange to be here without Grisha, though. She'd thought that the next time she would set foot in London, he would be by her side. But he had made her go, with a half-promise to maybe play catch-up with her in a few weeks. She hoped Hetty would let him.

While waiting for her luggage, she texted him, saying that she'd arrived safely and was on her way to Nanna. She got one back while she lifted her suitcase from the carrousel. _Glad to hear it. Enjoy your stay. Say hi to Nanna and your parents from me. I love you._

She hadn't wanted to go. Not really. But he'd made her. After all, maybe it was a good way to gain perspective and figure out what she wanted to do. She had all this time on her hands now that there was no café waiting for her.

Nate had stuck around for a few weeks. While she was hesitant to open up further to him in the beginning, in hindsight now, she was grateful that she had. His door was always open, and he was a good and unbiased listener, just as he'd said he would be. In the end, both she and Grisha had benefitted more from his time than either of them were ready to admit.

Also, the past couple of weeks had made her realize something. Difficult as it still was, working through the grief over losing Lindy and her café, and however torn she'd sometimes felt on whether or not to leave him, she couldn't do it. She loved him. She loved the man more than she'd ever loved anyone else. But this breathing space was good.

She tilted her head up at the sun. It was a different kind of heat than the one she had grown accustomed to, but sunshine and warmth nonetheless, and she was grateful for it. She hoped that Grisha would be able to join her and they would have a few days in London together. She wanted to show him all the places she used to frequent growing up.

Hailing a taxi, she thought a moment about where to go. She hadn't told anyone she was coming. As the taxi driver took her suitcase and she got in, she gave him Nanna's address. It was time.

It wasn't Nanna's live-in nurse Leah who opened the door, as Deja had expected. It was her aunt. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," she quipped. "That's a surprise."

"Hi Auntie Eve," Deja said as she wrapped her arms around the older woman. Her aunt was two years younger than Alistair, but always impeccably dressed and put together. Nothing that showed she was almost sixty.

"Well, hello darling. Let me look at you." Evelina 'Eve' Wallis –Barrow took a good look at her niece. "You want a cuppa?"

"Always."

Eve smiled. "Mother is in the living room. She will be thrilled to see you."

True to her aunts words, Nanna was. Elizabetta Barrow managed to look younger than her almost eighty-three years, but Deja could see she was getting older. Her aunt had her good looks from somewhere. Nanna straightened in her chair. "Well, amore, this is a surprise! Come here! Let me hug you!"

Deja let herself be hugged and bossed around, served with tea and homemade sponge. She swallowed a bite and looked at her aunt. "How is Uncle Ben? And Theo and Daisy? It's been ages since I've last seen them."

Eve's face lit up at the mention of her children. "They're good. The children are growing up so fast." She reached over for her purse and pulled out pictures. For the next half hour, Deja was brought up to speed on the adventures of her niece and nephew and their families. Both Theo and Daisy were married with kids, so there was always stuff to catch up on.

Deja only half-listened to what her aunt was saying, being rather distracted. Thankfully, after she put the pictures away, Eve looked at her watch. "I have to go. I'm meeting Ben for lunch, and isn't Leah supposed to be back soon?"

"She will be." Nanna saw her out and sauntered back into the living room, looking at her granddaughter. "Amore, what's happened?"

Deja looked up. "What? I can't come to surprise my grandmother?"

"Of course you can. But I'd have thought you would've brought your man."

She pulled her lips into a half smile. "Grisha couldn't get time off. So it's just me."

Sitting down, Nanna studied her. "Something happened?"

Deja had told her parents basics of what had happened at _Indulge_. Which meant she had told them that there'd been a fire, killing Lindy and injuring both Jess and Jay. "Did Mama tell you about what happened to the café?"

"The fire? Yes, she told me."

"Well, Lindy died, and most of the insurance work has been done, so I have all this free time on my hands… Grisha sort of kicked me out."

"Going by what you've told me about him, he had a good reason to do so."

"Maybe. It's good to be back in England. Gives me time to think things over, think about what I want to do for work, now there's no more café."

"You're not going to rebuild it?"

Deja bit her lip. "I don't know yet. Maybe…"

"But…?"

There was this thing weighing on her mind. "What if we get married and have kids? I don't mind them growing up in the café, I mind not being there to bring them to bed and sing lullabies and tell bedtime stories. So keeping that in mind, maybe it's better to do, I don't know, high-end catering or something, instead of building up the café."

Nanna shrugged, sipping tea. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Getting married? Thinking about kids?"

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "Maybe…"

Nanna grinned. "Amore, there is no such thing as maybe in love. You either are or you aren't."

"Well, I am," Deja decided there and then. "I'm in love with him, I love him, I want to be with him. That what you want to hear?"

"Only if that is what you want."

"It is."

Nanna wasn't fooled. "But?"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because I am not a fool, Deja Jade. I may be old, but I'm not dumb. Something has happened that makes you question not if you love him, but if you want to be with him. If not, you wouldn't be here on your own."

"He couldn't get away from work, Nanna." She squared her shoulders. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell her grandmother, it was more that she didn't know how. She didn't know how and she didn't know what Grisha would say if he ever found out that she had. But the words came out anyway. And with it, everything she doubted, and felt, and loved, and questioned. Nanna listened to her, sipping tea, eating sponge, not judging. "…and now I'm here."

Nanna pondered over her story for a moment. "Does your father know this?"

"NO." Deja shook her head. "No, of course not. He'd kill Grisha with his own two hands if he ever found out."

"How long has it been?"

"Six weeks or so. Maybe a little longer."

"And you've told someone other than him?"

"Of course I have." The pointed look Nanna gave her told her volumes. "Okay, perhaps not of course, but yes, I have."

"Good for you. So why are you still doubting him?"

"I'm not!"

Nanna wasn't fazed and calmly waiting for the rest.

"It's not him, Nanna. I love him. It's his job. His job and all the consequences and dangers that come with it. Cause what if we do get married, and have kids, and his job is going to get him killed? Then what am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to love him, amore. That's all you're supposed to do. And would you rather not have anything with him at all than worry about the fact that he might get killed? He'll die eventually, we all do. Besides, from what you've told me, he's asked you to tell him to quit and you haven't told him so."

"It wouldn't be fair to tell him that."

Nanna patted her hand. "You have to figure out if loving him now, for as long as you'll be together will be better than not loving him at all. And you know that, you just needed to hear someone say it."

Deja rolled her eyes. "Yes, that is why I came all the way across the Atlantic. Just to have this conversation." She sighed. "Leaving him is not an option, Nanna."

"Are you going to tell him to quit?"

"No."

"What other option do you have left, then?"

"Loving him, job and all."

"Exactly."


	37. Chapter 37

Hi, everyone! Here's the next installment in the saga. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

He was in a bad mood. He was grumbling and his jaw was set. So far, his morning was not going as planned. He'd overslept for the first time in his life, then burnt his bagel and let his tea steep for too long so that it tasted bitter, then, in his hurry to still be at the office in time, had ripped his shirt because it caught on the door handle he'd promised Dee he'd fix.

Honestly, he was plain miserable without her. It had been two weeks, and although they at least tried to text every day and Skype on a few occasions, he missed her. So he'd been short tempered and moody.

He stalked into the mission, threw his bag on his desk without acknowledging anyone and went over to Hetty's desk. "I need some time off." No intro, no request, just an announcement.

The Operations Manager wasn't even caught off guard. "Oh, finally! He's here to ask for time off."

Callen raised an eyebrow. "Is it that bad?" He knew he hadn't been himself, but he tried to reign himself in and not take it out on the others.

Hetty folded her hands on her desk. "Do you really want to know? You've been sulking ever since you put her on that plane."

"I miss her."

"I know you do. It's not that."

"Then what?"

"Why didn't you ask for time off when you convinced her to go to London? And just go with her?"

He bit his lip. "Because we needed space. Space to figure out what we wanted. You know, together and as two individuals."

"And what do you want?"

"Her." Even he was surprised by the bluntness of that statement. "I mean it, Hetty. I want her. This is my way of showing her that I want her. Hoping that she'll have me in return."

Hetty eyed him. "Are you going to propose?"

It took him three seconds before he shook his head. "Nope."

"Ever?"

"No, I'm going to propose. Just not in London."

She smiled. "Why haven't you proposed yet, Grisha?"

"Because when Bogdanov happened I was still trying to figure out how and when, and then after Bogdanov we weren't really in place to propose."

"Are you now?" Hetty wanted to know.

"We're getting there."

Hetty was still stunned by the changes she saw in her agent sometimes. So much had changed in the past eighteen months that he'd known Deja. He'd found a place in himself that was comfortable enough to accept his truth and talk about his feelings.

"How's the house hunting?"

"Not doing that until she's back."

"Grisha…"

But he shook his head. "I know you mean well, Hetty, but we're not looking at new houses until we're back. I'm not making that kind of decisions without her; they're to important."

And he was standing up for himself. Which was good too. Hetty gave in. "Fine. But as soon as you've set foot on American ground again…"

"Yes, we'll start looking for another house."

"Okay." She leaned back in her chair. "How long do you want to go?"

"How long can you give me?" he asked.

Hetty pursed her lips. "Technically, with all the leave you have on the books, probably until the end of the year. But, as I can't have Mr. Hanna without a partner for that long, will three weeks suffice?"

Overwhelmed, Callen opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He nodded. "And I was hoping for a week."

"I can still give you a week," Hetty mock-threatened him.

"No, I'll take the three." He wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. "Thank you, Hetty."

"Enjoy, Mr. Callen. And please, take her home with you."

With Hetty's blessing, he landed in London two days later. He hadn't told Dee that he was coming, but he'd heard Dee out about what she was going to do the next couple of days, so he had an idea where to find her. Having dropped his luggage off at the hotel, he took another taxi to Kensington.

If he was correct, Dee was having tea with Nanna. He was greeted at the door by the hostess. "Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?"

Grisha cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm here as a surprise. I believe you have a standing reservation for Mrs. Elizabetta Barrow?"

"And you are?"

"Grisha Callen. I'm her granddaughters boyfriend. Flew in from the States this morning." He hoped it was enough to get him in. He'd never done this before. He'd never been completely honest about why he was surprising anyone.

The hostess smiled. "Well, we normally don't let anyone in without a reservation, but since you've come all this way… They're in the back of the garden, under the gazebo."

"Thank you." Relief didn't quite cover what he was feeling. Walking in the direction she had pointed out to him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. Dee picked up at the second ring.

"Hey you."

He stopped when he finally saw her. And when he saw her, his body relaxed. She was sitting with her back to him, facing an older lady that he assumed was Nanna. "Hi."

"Is everything okay? It's awfully early, even for you." Her voice sounded concerned.

"I'm okay," he breathed. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

She settled back in her chair. "I'm here. What do you want to talk about?"

"What are you doing?"

"Remember that I told you about going somewhere for tea with Nanna? Today is that day. She wants me to judge their tea."

"How in the world do you judge their tea?"

She laughed and he swallowed. How he had missed that sound. "I don't. As long as it comes in tins instead of paper bags, we're good. Nanna wants me to tell her what I think of their pastries, sandwiches and scones. Sorry, tea in England usually includes all those things."

"Aha. So have you tried anything already?"

"We've just arrived. So, no, all I've had so far is a sip of some very fancy champagne."

"Champagne?"

"Complementary. Couldn't really say no."

"She's spoiling you."

"As you would if you were here."

"I would certainly try." Grisha paused. "Do you think there's room for one more?"

He saw the confusion dawn on her face; her brows knotted and she sat up in her chair, looking around. "What are you saying?"

He stepped into view behind her. "Turn around."

Her head turned, eyes flicking from left to right, searching for him. When she finally saw him, he grinned. "Surprise."

Her phone fell to the ground as she sprang to her feet and started running to him. "Oh my god…"

Grisha caught her in his arms, so relieved to see her in real-time. He smelled her scent, felt her body fold into his.

Dee held him tight. After two weeks of complete (physical) absence, she found the expression to be correct. Absence did make the heart grow fonder. "Why didn't you tell me…?"

"Would it be a surprise if I had told you?"

She shook her head no, ran her hands through his short hair and checked every inch of his face. Then her eyes rested on his. "I love you."

"I love you more." He leaned in and did something he hadn't done in two weeks. He kissed her.

When they came up for air, Dee bit her lip. "I'm sorry you had to send me all the way to London to get some clarity."

"If you found it, it doesn't really matter," he said. "And even if you haven't found it yet, we'll have the next three weeks to figure some things out. If you don't, you'll just have to stay longer."

Her eyes went wide. "Three weeks? You're staying for three weeks?"

"I am."

The smile he loved so much lightened up her face. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

Just having her near made that his mood improved in tenfold. With every minute he was here, he was more and more convinced that asking Hetty for the time off was a good idea. Maybe so good, that he'd do something with the ring he packed after all. Just in case…


	38. Chapter 38

Thanks for all the follows and great reviews! :-) Now the big question is whether or not he will... ;-)

* * *

They were lying next to each other on a picnic blanket, under the shadow of a tree. Grisha grunted. "This is what the turkey must feel like at Thanksgiving."

Dee turned her head to him. "Like what?"

"Completely stuffed."

She snickered. "That's a really bad joke."

"I got you to laugh anyway."

"Yeah…" She closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh. "Have I mentioned this is the best birthday ever?"

"Already?"

"Mmm. A walk through the book market, searching for vintage cookbooks with someone who at least pretends not to be bored out of his mind, then a picnic with food from an Ottolenghi deli… You know how to spoil a girl."

He grinned. "And you haven't seen your present yet."

"There's more?"

"Only if you want it."

Her eyes stayed closed. "Later. I like laying here with you."

He did too. He'd used one of Hetty's contacts to get them into a fancy restaurant he knew Dee wanted to go to, and surprise her with her family. Dee wasn't big on birthdays but he wanted to do something special, particularly since they were in London. The past two weeks had gone by fast, and he was glad he had come. He'd met her grandmother, her aunt and uncle, and the rest of her extended English side of the family. And he fit. He fit with them because he fit with her.

On some level it felt as if they were getting reacquainted with each other. Maybe it was because he was seeing a side of her he hadn't seen yet. She radiated English culture; showing him places from her childhood and going sightseeing with him, using words and expressions he hadn't heard of yet, in an accent he found both adorable and incredibly sexy.

"Dee?"

"Mmm?"

It was a question that had been swimming in his mind for a few days. "Have you decided what you're going to do when we get back home?"

It stayed quiet next to him for a little while. "Sort of. It depends on a few things."

"Like what?"

She opened her eyes and rolled on her side. "Future stuff. It's an awfully serious conversation to have on my birthday."

He nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. "No better day to plan your future than your birthday, right?" He wasn't backing down. Grisha wanted to know.

"Okay." She propped her head up on her hand and he copied her posture so that he could look at her. "This thing we have together, it's serious, correct?"

"It is," he confirmed.

"Okay. Are we going to have a big wedding?"

"If it were completely up to me, no, not really. But if you want to, yeah, sure. Anything you want."

The corners of her mouth pulled up. "Nah, let's do something small. Courthouse wedding, a few days away, just the two of us to get married. We'll send everyone a card afterwards or so."

"You sure you don't want your parents there?" Grisha knew that as long as she was there, he'd be fine. But since her family ties were much stronger than his own, he could imagine that she'd want her parents there.

"Don't think so. I did the whole over-the-top-thing the first time; it would be bliss to just elope and have something tiny with the two of us."

"No dress?"

"Oh yes, a dress. And a suit. And flowers and photos. But just the two of us. Unless you'd like Hetty to be there, of course, which I would completely understand."

He was quick to decline. "No, I'm good with the two of us."

She repositioned her head. "Where are we going to live?"

"That depends on what house we fall in love with. I don't know… Something with a big, light kitchen, and an extra bedroom."

"Just one?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How many kids do you plan on having?"

"One, maybe two. Why?"

"Only making sure."

"You don't want a complete football team?"

His brow furrowed. "I don't know… Until early last year I wouldn't have thought kids were ever going to happen for me, and part of me still thinks that, I guess." His eyes drifted away from hers.

Dee sensed his hesitation. "You never dreamed of kids? Not even deep down?"

Grisha shrugged. "Maybe. But it was never in the cards for me, either relationship wise or because I had, have, still so many issues to work through. Never thought I would ever be father material."

"You still don't?" Dee wanted to know.

"Not really." He smiled. "I once told someone in a conversation that teaching little league would be idyllic. To which he said that it we do what we do so that other people can have that life."

"A colleague?"

"Something like that."

Dee bit the inside of her lip. "Don't feel pressured by me saying that I would like to have a kid. We're having a conversation about our ideal of the future, we don't have to make any drastic decisions now."

Finally, he looked back at her. "You know what? I'm actually looking forward to it. I think I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that this time, it might be in the cards for me. For _us._ "

Her eyes sparkled with affection. "Fingers crossed."

"Have you decided on what to do with the café?"

Dee lifted her head from her hand and turned on her back again. "I am not completely sure yet. On one hand, I'd like to reopen _Indulge_ , but at the same time my brain seems to worry about the kids we don't have yet. I'd like to read bedtime stories and do bath time, you know. If I rebuild _Indulge_ the way it was, that is not going to happen."

Grisha reached over and brushed hair away from her face. "Then what are you going to do?"

She turned her head to him. "The way I see it, there are two options. I rebuild _Indulge_ as a decadent bistro style café, which means that opening hours are until six at the latest because you don't serve dinner. Or, I decide not to rebuild at all, and start something new altogether."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Do a high end catering from home or something. That way I can be around and work from home. We just have to find a home with a yard big enough to build a professional kitchen."

"And there goes the 'we'll-look-for-something-with-just-an-extra-bedroom' plan." He grinned. "Both of them sound good. I'll support you no matter what you decide to do."

"What would you prefer? You know, thinking of everything that we hope will happen for us in the next few years?"

He weighed both options in his head for a few moments. "Considering the whole marriage and kids thing? Maybe I'd prefer the catering option, but mostly because I know I have insane hours on the job and I would love to know that you're around. But I also know how much joy that café gave you, and how hard you worked for it. And you know, even Jamie Oliver grew up in a café, and he turned out all right. So I think we can do that too. Especially when I decide that I'm done being an agent."

Dee's eyes narrowed. "Are you? Going to be done?"

He nodded. "I am. At some point I'm going to be done. I've been in federal service in one form or another for twenty years and counting, Dee, and if we start this family, I want that to be important. I don't want to have to make the choices my parents had to make because of what they did. I'd rather not protect my kids by never seeing them again."

"What are you going to do when you're not an agent anymore?"

Again, he shrugged. "Find something with less insane hours and a mortality rate that isn't as high. If all else fails, I can teach Russian."

"Or you could become my sous-chef."

"See? The world would be at my feet again." Grisha winked. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let find a new house first and do the other things on that list, too. Then the kid might be old enough to be taught baseball and I just go and coach little league."

"Okay." She closed her eyes again. "What time is dinner again?"

"Seven thirty."

"Tell me again where you're taking me?"

"I haven't told you yet."

"That was it." She smiled, scooting a bit closer to him. "I'll let myself be surprised."

Grisha leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. "I love you."


	39. Chapter 39

After rewriting it four times or so, this is what it is. Let me know what you think. ;-)

* * *

Deja blew her candles out and, grinning from ear to ear, looked up at Grisha. "I told you this was the best birthday ever."

He shook his head, softly squeezing her shoulders. "You still have until midnight."

"It's been so perfect, I don't think anything can top everything we've done today."

How he hoped there was something that would. He'd been meticulously planning the rest of their evening for almost two weeks, toying with ideas, and with the things he wanted to say to her. It was a good thing he'd packed that ring after all. London was their do-over. And if things were going the way he hoped they would, it would be special to them for the rest of their lives.

After they had found their way back to each other, he'd decided that he was going to propose after all. And what better place to have for a proposal than London, the city she was from. Nanna had helped him plan in secret, during moments she was in the shower or on the phone, or during the time she was sleeping. And he hoped that all his planning would pay off.

Alistair was watching him from across the table and leaned over to his wife. "Does something seem off about Grisha to you?" he quietly informed.

Maria sipped her champagne, trying to figure out if she could see something. "I don't know. A bit nervous, maybe, in the beginning of the evening, but I'm sure it has everything to do with him surprising her with all of us." Tilting her head back at her husband, she pulled a shoulder up. "Why do you ask?"

"Just a feeling." Turning to his mother, he tried again. "Mother, do you sense something of about Grisha too?"

Nanna took the offered plate of cake from Daisy and set it on the table before answering. "In what way of, my dear?"

"He seems a bit ill at ease to me," Alistair clarified.

Nanna pierced her fork through the raspberry and white chocolate mousse cake. "Mmm. I'm sure it's just birthday jitters and having the whole family together. It can be a bit overwhelming when you've grown up with only your mother."

"Right." Alistair didn't seem convinced but he didn't press the matter. After all, his mother and wife were better at reading people, so surely he was just seeing things?

An hour and half later, the party was breaking up and they were saying goodbye to everyone. Deja pressed a kiss to her niece's cheek. "Oh, it's been too long. We'll try and visit more often, but you should come by LA, too, sometime."

Daisy hoisted her youngest, sleeping, son up her shoulder and offered a hug. "We should. Maybe when Collin has his Christmas break next time? Or are you going to be off for Christmas?"

"I don't know yet," Dee said. "If you want to come and visit, let us know, and we'll arrange something. It would be bloody brilliant if you could." She affectionately ruffled through little Harry's hair. "See you next time, little one."

Grisha bend over Nanna. "Have you heard from Nigel?"

She nodded. "They'll let you in on the east side. Be careful and good luck."

"Thank you." He squeezed her hand. "You're the best, Nanna."

With that, he waved goodbye and opened the car door for Deja. "Come on birthday girl, it's getting late."

"But we have until midnight."

"I know." He ushered her into the cab. Nanna had lent them her own driver for the evening, giving Christophe a detailed itinerary so Grisha didn't have to tell him anything and clue Dee in.

Dee nestled into his side as the car pulled away from the curb. She let out a sigh, completely satisfied with how her first birthday in England in years, had planned out. "How did you get reservations? The place is booked months in advance."

He smirked. "I have Hetty."

"That does explain everything." Her lips pulled into a smile. "Remind me to say thank you when we get back."

"So you enjoyed it?" The nervous knot in his stomach was growing with each passing minute and he absentmindedly traced circles on her arm.

"Oh, it was fabulous."

Her accent was going to be the death of him, eventually, but right now, he was trying to swallow passed the lump in his throat. Letting out his breath, he flexed the muscles in his free hand as they inched closer to their destination. Deja didn't seem to notice anything as she babbled on about her birthday dinner and it was until their car stopped, that she finally noticed that something wasn't quite right. Sitting up, she looked around, her brows knotted. "Christophe, we're nowhere near home yet." Her confusion only grew when Grisha got out and held out his hand to her. "Babe? What's going on?"

"Come on. Like you said, your birthday isn't over until midnight."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Don't you think you've spoiled me enough already?"

"You haven't had your present yet."

More confusion as she followed him. "You packed the entire day with surprises. And as you know, I don't care for things."

"I know."

Without warning, the gates to Kensington Gardens opened and Deja's eyebrows rose to her hairline. Grisha on the other hand, unnoticed by her, let his breath out. Good, getting in was taken care of. "Thank you, Nigel."

"My pleasure, Mr. Callen. Miss Barrow." Nigel tipped his hat and disappeared back into the darkness, having closed the gate behind them.

"Grisha? What's all this?"

"This," he answered, "is Kensington Gardens after hours."

Looking around, Deja bit her lip. "Your mother has friends in the most extraordinary places."

He laughed. "My mother once ruled Nicaragua for 72 hours, but she's not the one who helped me pull this off."

"Okay." Deja admired the tranquility of the moment, looking up at the stars and searching for lights in the distance. "What are we doing here?"

"You'll see." He squeezed the hand holding his. "Just walk with me for a while, okay?" The longer they walked, admiring the sights, the less nervous he felt. The knot in his stomach lessened, and his hands lost their clamminess. His breathing regulated and his heartbeat finally resembled a normal rate again. Things would be fine. Surely she'd say yes?

Finally, feeling her shiver beside him in the cooler air, he stopped and shrugged off his jacket. Wrapping it around her shoulders, he smiled. "Are you cold?"

Dee shook her head. "Cold is a big word. It's chilly in comparison to this afternoon."

"Just a little longer." He wrapped his arm around her and they walked on.

When the first few notes hit them from around the corner, Deja's eyes grew wide. "What is that?"

"Music."

"No kidding." She rolled her eyes and stopped to listen. "Are they playing Ms. Ella?" Deja let go of him and went closer to where the sound came from. Rounding a corner, she found the bandstand and the three musicians under it.

Grisha joined her and held his hand out. "Dance with me?"

"Always." Her body melted into his as she hummed along to Ella Fitzgerald's Love you madly.

Grisha let out a breath out he didn't know he was holding. The blue velvet box in his pocket felt heavy, somehow, but she was so worth the effort. Two songs later, he pulled her in the direction of the pond. Dee eyed the lit torches and candles and an inkling of something crept up her spine. Surely he wasn't going to…

The pond a few yards away, Grisha finally stopped and turned to her, grasping her hands. The music was still playing and that combined with the lights made that Dee felt she was in a bubble. At last, Grisha started to speak. "So, I know this is your birthday, and I've been thinking about what to get you as a present. But since you care more for experiences than you do for things, it was a tricky one. The fact that you always tell me you have everything you need did not make it any easier."

Dee chewed on her lower lip, grasping his hands just a little bit tighter.

"So I thought that I could give you something that you don't necessarily need but that I'm hoping you'll want." He gulped, taking a deep breath, looking away from her. When he locked eyes again with her, he continued. "I love you. And I never thought I would say that to anyone with as much conviction as I'm saying it to you, because I've been afraid of love my whole life. But since you came into my life, you've brought sunshine and light, and you made me trust again. I love your quirkiness, and your cooking and the way you kiss me goodbye in the morning, and tell me to make it back to you. I love you for the way you make my life easier, and you make me a better man and person everyday, simply for who you are. You sneaked into my heart, and even though it hasn't been easy the past few months, you're still here, and you still choose to love me, and I'm grateful beyond words. In every other life I might have after this, I will search for you, and find you, and love you all the same, because you complete me, and I can't imagine life without you anymore."

He let go of her hands, reached into his pocket for the ring and sank on one knee. Deja wiped a tear from her cheek and shook her head at him. Opening the box, he revealed the three stone round cut diamond ring in a bezel setting he had picked with such care. "Deja Jade Barrow, will you do me the greatest honor in the world and marry me?"

Deja had only one way of answering that question. "Yes."


	40. Chapter 40

Sooo... It's been ages since I updated. I'm sorry! Things are still a bit crazier than I would like, and me being hypersensitive doesn't help matters, because that means I get overstimulated with all sorts of things and the longer that drags on, the longer it takes for me to recover. Which is also why I didn't have space in my head to write. I hope that you like this next installment, let me know what you think!

* * *

It had been a slow day with no pending cases, so Hetty had sent the remaining part of her team home early to have a life. She had left early herself, to be in time for some pampering of her own before her appointment that night.

The man in front of her at the table reached for his wine glass. "… you never mentioned him before."

Oh, how she didn't like these conversations. The ones that became personal and crept up on you even though you fought hard to keep them at bay. But she was here. And she had been talking about Grisha. Because Tom deserved to know.

"I was not certain how to bring it up."

"That you have a son? That seems fairly normal to me."

"It is a bit more complicated than that."

Tom leaned back in his seat. "How is it complicated?"

It was complicated because even though he wasn't hers, he felt like hers. And even though she was his boss, she operated as his mother too. Hetty studied the man in front of her. She was letting her guard down. Thomas Holt was becoming a distraction that she didn't mind. Maybe that her old age was catching up with her, maybe it was that it was nice to have someone to just talk too about the things she enjoyed. Someone to connect to.

She had reconnected with Tom months earlier at an art gallery she frequented. They had worked together a long time ago, she with the CIA and Tom on loan from NIS. There had been an attraction they hadn't addressed, because Tom had been married and Hetty was always married to her job. But the quiet confidence he carried around had always piqued her interest and was what she appreciated about him most. He was down-to-earth and could counter her worries sometimes like Deeks could Kensi's. Tom was the kind of man to take things at face value. And he knew the risks of her job. Knew what her job entailed, and that was something she couldn't share with anyone in an outside circle.

So they had bumped into each other at the gallery, and this time, Tom had stuck around for more than only the polite questions about her interest in art and she had said yes to his invitation for dinner quicker than she would've liked.

And so the weeks flew by. Dinner, theatre, drinks, exhibitions… Before she knew it, it was August and here she was. Sitting in one of her homes, with him at her dinner table. "Let's say he's adopted. He came to live with me when he was fifteen and stayed for three years until he joined the Army. From there he worked with a lot of agencies in the alphabet soup, and now he works for me."

"Don't you mind it?"

"Do I mind what?"

"That he works for you? You have to send him out in dangerous situations every day."

She sighed. "I know that he is excellent at what he does and that he wouldn't take any more risks than he has too. Having said that, the boss and mother in me are at conflict sometimes."

Tom twirled the wine in his glass around. "It's a delicate balance you're trying to keep. I'm sure I'd have the same issues doing what you are."

"Maybe, yes."

The telephone in the corner started ringing. Hetty ignored it. Tonight, she was having a night off, and nothing was going to interrupt that. Unless, of course, there were bombs going off and people were dying and she could do something about it, but then it would be another phone ringing.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

She shook her head. "It's not urgent."

The telephone on her desk stopped ringing. But it was only a few moments later, her personal emergency phone started to ring. Tom lifted an eyebrow at her. "Maybe it's more important than you think."

Hetty groaned and, putting her napkin on her plate, lifted herself out of her chair. "One would assume. Excuse me."

She frowned at the number, quickly counting the time back in her head. Why would he be video calling her at two-thirty in the morning? Swiping at her screen, she accepted the call. If the smile on his face was anything to go by, she had nothing to worry about. "Grisha Alexandrovich Nicolaev, I do hope there's a threat to national security or something's happened to your other half in order for you to call me at two in the morning."

Grisha chuckled. "Good evening to you too, mother."

She didn't see Deja. Then again, the girl was better of sleeping at two in the morning. "Is everything okay with Deja?" It was her first concern, now that he didn't seem to be in trouble.

"I'm great, Hetty!" Deja stepped into the screen, her smile matching Grisha's. "Thank you for my birthday dinner, it was brilliant."

"You're welcome, my dear. Was everything in order?"

"It was more than I had expected. And you didn't have to pick up the check for us." Deja rested her arms on Grisha's shoulders. "But we're very thankful that you did."

"It's your birthday. It was the least I could do." Hetty waved it off. "Now, I'm sure that you're not calling me in the middle of the night just to thank me for your dinner."

Grisha narrowed his eyes at her and she could see that something clicked in his head. "Are you at the beach house? Do you have a date? Do I know him?"

Hetty knew that she wouldn't be able to deceive him, but she could always try. "Why do you ask that?"

"Your brooch. It's one of your favorites, but you keep it for special occasions. And I know that painting behind you. It was a gift, remember?"

Why she bothered trying… She took a deep breath. "Fine. Yes, I'm at the beach house, and yes, I do have company." She looked up at her companion and sighed. "Would you mind?"

Tom shook his head. "Why would I mind?"

Hetty tilted the screen of her phone so that they could see him. "This is Thomas Holt. Tom, this is Grisha and his girlfriend, Deja."

"Fiancée, actually."

Hetty's eyes snapped back to the screen as Deja held up her hand. "What?"

"Fiancée. Grisha proposed after dinner. We're engaged."

Hetty would say that she was not one to be overcome by emotions, and anyone who knew her could testify to that, but in that particular moment, she felt her throat tighten and something that felt an awful lot like tears welled up in her eyes. She was so overwhelmed that she lowered the screen and tried to keep her tears in check. He had taken the plunge and decided that he wanted her. A life. Marriage. Maybe kids. And he'd taken all those steps himself. She couldn't have been prouder had she tried.

Tom carefully took the phone from her. "I think your mother is a bit overwhelmed. But what she means is congratulations."

"Thank you," Deja beamed.

Grisha regarded the man on the other end of the screen carefully for a few moments, looking for a reason not to like him. And although he couldn't find a threat, he wasn't going to trust this man. Not until Nell had done a full background check and even then… On the other hand, this man liked Hetty and obviously, Hetty liked him back. He would not be at the beach house if she didn't. "Thank you," Grisha nodded. "Hetty? Are you okay?"

Hetty cleared her throat and nodded. Not that they could see. "I'm sorry, my dear. Congratulations, that is wonderful news." She stepped back into view. "Let me see the ring."

Deja held her hand up in front of the camera. "Don't you think it's perfect?"

It was. In all its simplicity it was perfect for her. He had done good. "It is. Gorgeous. Where did he ask you?"

"Kensington Gardens. Apparently, Nanna helped him plan. They're good at keeping secrets because I didn't know what was happening until he went down on a knee. It was more than I expected."

Yes, secrets was something he'd learned to be good at. But this time, it was for all the right reasons. This time, it was only so that he could surprise her instead of keep something from her. He'd grown so much as a person and things like this reminded Hetty again that he had.

"Well, I hope he made a spectacle out of it because you deserve nothing less."

The look of utter joy on Deja's face told her that he had. "He did. We started with a private opening of Kensington Gardens, then a walk, some dancing and he proposed right between the bandstand and the pond. Lots of lights, my favorite music…" She paused, smiling up at Grisha. "We're telling everyone else later today, but we wanted to call and let you know. We're flying to Barcelona this afternoon to spend our last week there, so Grisha can meet the other half of the family, and we're coming back late Friday night."

"Thank you for calling."

Grisha leaned into Deja and whispered in her ear. When he turned back to the screen, he spoke in Czech. "Měl bych ti poděkovat za všechno, co jsi pro mě udělal. A já vím, že jsem to neřekl, a by měla mít, ale vím, že jsem vděčný, , že jste v mém životě a že tě miluju."

If Hetty had been overwhelmed before, she was a wreck now. She swallowed and her voice caught as she answered. "Děkuju."

Deja blew a kiss. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, okay? Tom, it was nice to meet you, sorry that we interrupted, but it really couldn't wait."

Tom laughed. "Every happy announcement is worth being interrupted for, Deja. It was nice meeting you too, even from so far away. Grisha."

"Tom." They waved and screen turned black.

Tom put the phone down and looked at Hetty. "That the first time he told you that?"

If she was surprised he could follow along, she didn't show it. "It was."

"Was it worth waiting for?"

It was. More than Hetty would ever be to tell him. "Ooh... yes."


	41. Chapter 41

Don't get used to it, guys. ;-) But, I had time and inspiration, so here is another part.  
Thanks for all the reviews and new followers and favorites. Enjoy!

* * *

Deja closed the door to their bedroom behind her and looked at him. "Are you okay? They ambushed you!"

Grisha plunked down on the bed and looked at her, his eyes wide. "How big exactly was your family on this side again?"

Quietly laughing, she joined him on the bed. "Thirty-six. That's including my parents and excluding us."

"Thirty-six," he mumbled. They had arrived at Abuela Elena's house three hours earlier, and the moment they were over the threshold, her family had been all over them. There was no escaping it. He was still trying to put names to faces, and everyone had asked him questions that he had barely understood because his Spanish needed work. Dee had started to teach him basics, but it wasn't enough to follow the rapid conversation going on around him.

Dee rubbed his back. "It's a bit overwhelming, huh?"

"That's the understatement of the year." He glared at her. "Seriously, they're loud and in your face and out there… But your grandmother seems really sweet and the kids are cute," he added to take the sting out of his statement.

"I know." She shrugged. "There's a lot of them. And they _are_ loud. And in your face. And they stick their noses everywhere it doesn't necessarily belong. But they're my family."

Folding his hands behind his neck, Grisha leaned back into his pillows. "In other words, get used to it."

"I guess?"

Shaking his head, he laughed. "It's a good thing I love you so much. Every other man with sense would've run the other direction because this is so much."

"That's why I brought you. You're too much of a gentleman." She winked. "Give it time. Try and find a corner and do what you do best. Observe. They'll grow on you once you find out the dynamic."

"What is the dynamic?"

Pursing her lips, she pondered it for a moment. "Think of Abuela as Hetty; all my uncles and aunts are team leaders like you, all with their own team. She makes sure everything works like a well- oiled machine."

"She's the boss."

"She's Abuela. Kind of the same thing."

He grinned. "You really like them."

"I do." Taking her sandals off, she scooted back on the bed and settled next to him. "I don't get to see them all that much, because we live half a world away, and much as I love the English side, I think this is my favorite. Don't tell Nanna I said that."

"They are the 'quality time equals food and food equals quality time' part of the family."

"You remembered." She was touched.

"Of course. Our first Saturday at the market together."

"It feels like a million years ago." She toyed with her engagement ring.

"It does, doesn't it?" He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "I like them, it's not that. I think it's just that I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that this too, is your family. All of them. That hadn't sunken in yet because I didn't know what to think of it."

Dee could understand it. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Mmm… Maybe a little?"

"I understand, babe. Don't worry. I get it. You've been alone for way too long, and you have Hetty and your makeshift family, which is less than ten. And I come with the half the population of Spain and England attached."

"Well, maybe not half, but at least ten percent of it, yeah."

Playfully, she elbowed his ribs. "Fine. Ten percent. I do understand that it's a lot. And if you remember half their names by the end of the week, I'll be so proud of you."

"We should've practiced before we came here. I won't be able to remember half of them, let alone all."

By Tuesday, he had remembered most of them, without trying. Dee was right; he had found a relatively quiet place for the first two days, near the kitchen. And observing made that he felt a bit more at home in the mess that she called family. He could see her joke and play games with the kids, and how Abuela Elena bossed her around in the kitchen because she was doing something different from normal. Since it was fairly quiet until after siesta, he got time to practice his Spanish and get to know Abuela better. In a lot of ways, she was like Nanna, but she was more outgoing and extravert, as Spanish people are. He loved her from the moment she handed him an apron and a knife, and was teaching him ingredients and kitchen utensils in Spanish, before lunch.

As soon as siesta was over, though, everyone else was slowly dripping in, and after two days he found himself being kicked out of the kitchen by the women, and banned to the pool with the men and kids. Thankfully, most of Dee's cousins spoke a bit of English, but it improved his Spanish in a few days more than he would've thought.

By Monday night, sitting at the huge dinner table, surrounded by laughing people who were speaking passionately and loudly, he got why Dee felt that this was the favorite part of her family. He could see how you got used to the high volume. How they talked about everything; how the little ones and the serious ones got made fun of. But they all included each other and respected each other and their opinions. Dinner was eaten late, and he loved the fact that they could spent hours at the table with a glass of wine and each other. Dee caught his eye and smiled. She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you."

Wednesday morning, she took him to the nearby cemetery with a bunch of flowers. "It's just a little while. There are some people I want to say hi to."

The first grave they stopped at was her grandfather. The next her aunt. The last one was a tiny grave that Grisha couldn't place. Deja knelt down and brushed some leaves from the stone. Then she looked up at him. "Do you want the long or short version?"

"Tell me whatever you want to tell me."

She nodded, looking back at the stone and smiled. "They lost him eighteen months before I was born. I never knew or saw him, there are maybe three or four pictures of him left. He was barely two."

Grisha read the headstone. _Ramiro Hugh Barrow. Always in our hearts_. "Was he sick?"

"A car accident. Someone left the front gate open, and his toy rolled out onto the street. He was gone before anyone thought him missing." She rose, reaching for his hand. "So I'm an only child, but not really. Does that make sense?"

It did. "When did you find out?"

She shrugged. "When I was older. Papa never mentioned him; you know the English, so uptight about emotions. I think Mama had wanted to mention him, but she just didn't know how. In the end, I found a picture, when I was eight or nine, because they wanted me to do a family tree as a school project and I was looking for photos. Then she had to tell me."

"That must've been hard."

"It was. I think." She shook her head. "He died just a few miles up the road; Abuela lived in a different house back then. I don't think Mama could've handled taking him home. So they buried him here. They never added his birthday or the day he died. I suspect it was too much. I go say hi every time I visit Abuela, even though I don't know him." Letting her breath out, she looked up to him. "I wasn't sure how to tell you, so I figured I'd show you instead. He's not part of our life, but I don't know… You should know that he was here."

"Like I took you to see Amy."

Dee was thankful he understood. "Like you took me to see Amy."

Grisha gathered her close and kissed the side of her head. "I love you. Thank you for showing me."

"Thank you for being here with me. I know that this week has been a bit much, maybe."

"Actually, they're growing on me," he admitted. "I got what you meant, last night. They're rowdy and loud, but there is nothing more important to them than sitting around the table with food and drinks and each other. And I like that. We should do it more often, at home. Gather everyone, have a meal, talk."

She studied his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You know, once we have a new house and everything. When Marty and Kensi are back from their honeymoon."

"I'd like that."

"Me, too."


	42. Chapter 42

There are literally five different versions of this chapter, and this is the one I'm most happy with. For those of you who are (sort of, slightly) worried that this is coming to an end, don't worry. The whole pace of this story is quite slow, and it will stay slow. Which means that I might need another ten to fifteen chapter just to get to the end of September storywise. And there might already be a sequel in the works. :-) :-)

Just so you know, this is officially the longest story I've written so far. Drinks on me! ;-)

* * *

Monday came too soon. By the time they had cleared away their luggage and had sorted out the gifts, it was Sunday afternoon again. To mark the end of their vacation, Grisha took her to Harry's, who promptly donated champagne when learning of their engagement.

So, come Monday, Grisha was alert, but not as alert as he would've been without champagne and a longer night's sleep. Dee chuckled at his sleepy head as he strolled into the kitchen. "You okay?" she asked, handing him a cup of tea.

Grisha mumbled something she didn't understand. Then, finally, his eyes seemed to open. "That last glass was a bad idea."

"You're just saying that because it's Monday and you need to go to work."

"Maybe," he relented, "but maybe it's because saying goodbye to you for the first time in three weeks doesn't help, either."

"You're sweet." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "But, I have things to do today as well, so whether or not you're going into work, I'm not going to be home." She ducked under his arm to open the fridge. "Soy or regular yoghurt?"

"Regular." He looked around. "No paper?"

"On the porch." On his way to the door, he threw over his shoulder: "What exactly are you going to do today, then?"

"I am going to work through my emails, since my inbox has been neglected for at least a month." She added nuts and fruit to the yogurt and put a bagel in the toaster. "I texted Jess last night, who is home, thankfully, so we're having lunch today. And then, I'm going location scouting for both _Indulge_ and our new house."

He grinned, digging into his breakfast. "Already? We've been home for two days."

Taking a seat across from him, she shrugged. "I know. But I want to get a head start. So I hope there is an email from the insurance company, and I'm going to look for something smaller then what we had. And once I find a new location for the café, we can start looking for houses too. I know you don't want to commute longer than I do."

"Alright. Don't you need to go shopping for the wedding?"

"Ours?" The confusion was evident on her face. "Already?"

"Well, I don't know how long you want to wait… But no, not ours. Marty and Kensi's? It's only two weeks away."

Taking another spoonful of yoghurt, she nodded as she went back to the toaster for his bagel. "I don't think I need something, but let me sort out everything I've brought back and see if I can put something together. You, on the other hand, need something."

He watched her as she spread cream cheese on the bagel and shook his head. "I'm sure Hetty will have something in the wardrobe."

Raising her eyebrow, Dee stopped what she was doing. "As in: it's more convenient to let Hetty figure out what you're going to wear? Not happening mister, we are going shopping."

Taking the bagel out of her hand, he pressed a kiss to her nose. "I'm not going to have time to shop."

Crossing her arms, Dee squinted at him. "We'll make time to shop. Really babe, the only suit you own is in need of replacement, and I'm not going to let you show up in a pair of jeans."

He laughed, giving in. "Fine, we'll go shopping."

"I knew you'd come around." Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Enjoy your day. Be careful. Text me if you're on your way home so I can have dinner on the table. And say hi to everyone from me."

"I will." He kissed her long and thoroughly. "Say hi to Jess for me. I love you."

"I love you more."

His trip to work was uneventful as ever, and Kensi and Deeks pulled up next to him as he parked the car. They both grinned at him. "Look who's back!"

Talking about his trip, they strolled into the mission. Sam was already sitting behind his desk and looked up at the noise. "Look what the cat dragged in!" He got up from his desk and enveloped Callen in a sort of hug. "It's good to have you back, buddy."

"It's good to be back, I think." Callen dropped his bag on his desk. "What have I missed?"

"Other than Kensi freaking out about the wedding, not so much."

Kensi stuck her tongue out. "As said by bridezilla himself. I'm not apologizing for wanting things to be perfect."

Callen looked between them and grinned in Sam's direction. "Was it like this when you got married to Michelle?"

"Not that I can remember. Then again, I may just have blocked all that," Sam shrugged.

"Mmm." Callen went in the direction of the kitchenette. "Anyone else want tea? Or coffee?"

Kensi stopped in the middle of her sentence, seemingly realizing that she should be asking him questions. "Aren't you going to tell us about London? How was it? Did you meet her family?"

"It was great. London hasn't changed. Yes, I did."

Kensi rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to elaborate on that, Callen. How is her family?"

Having put the boiler on, Callen leaned against the counter. "Depending on the side, either small or huge, and sophisticated and cordial, or out-there and really, really loveable. Either way, they're great."

Deeks frowned. "Have you met her family in Barcelona, too?"

"Yes. We spent our last week there." In the meantime, Callen searched in his desk drawer for tea. "It's a massive difference from her English side, which is more conservative and always polite. Her Spanish side is, with thirty-six people, three times as big, and they bellow, they don't talk. It took me four days to get used to it."

Deeks chuckled. "Welcome to the family."

"Uhuh." Callen put tea in a strainer, then in a cup. "Anyway, how are things at this end?"

They filled him in on the cases they had worked, and even the cold case they had managed to solve. Judging by his inbox, he had a lot to catch up on. Their day was filled with paperwork and jokes, and to be honest, Callen was glad to be back. He had missed his work and family more than he wanted to admit.

Halfway through the day, he slipped into Ops. Nell looked up to him and smiled. "Ah, I was wondering when you were going to show up."

"Well, you know, if they all keep solving cases when I'm away, there's a mountain of paperwork to plough through. What did you find?"

Nell didn't have a lot for him. "He's as clean as they can be, working in our field. He retired from NCIS six years ago; has been doing some investigative work and he runs an art gallery with his son. His file reads better than yours does."

Callen shrugged. "Every file reads better than mine does."

"Squeaky clean. He worked for the FBI before he started at NIS, and he just worked there until he retired. I can't find a lot of dirt on him." She handed him a flash drive. "Why him, again?"

"He's dating Hetty." It was out there before Callen could swallow it.

Nell raised an eyebrow. "He's dating… since when?"

"I'm not sure. I'm guessing it's been a while, because she's taken him to the beach house and everything. They seem pretty comfortable together."

It stayed quiet as Nell mulled over that news. "Good for Hetty." She looked up at Callen. "I'll dig a little deeper, see if I can find anything else."

"You don't have to do that, Nell," Callen said. "All of this is more than enough. It's mostly just to put my worries at ease. I've seen him, I only wanted to make sure."

"Are you sure?"

"I am." He put the flash drive in his pocket.

"How was your vacation, by the way? For some reason, Eric and I have been stuck up here all day, I didn't have a chance to ask you yet."

"Great. Good." He ran a hand through his hair and it stayed in his neck. "I've met her family, which is immense, compared to mine. But they're all friendly and acceptive. It was good to have time together after everything that's happened in the past couple of months."

Nell was glad for him. "Good to hear. So now back in full work mode?"

"More or less. We need to move, and Dee has decided to re-open and relocate _Indulge_ , so I'm sure we'll be busy with all that. What about you and Eric?"

The beaming smile send his way was answer enough. "We're good. Slow and steady."

"Good. I'll leave you to whatever it was you were doing. Thanks for what you've done."

"You're welcome."

The rest of his day was, again, filled with paperwork until Hetty showed up at his desk around leave time. Callen tilted his head up from filling in a report. "Can I help you, Hetty?"

Hetty handed him a present. "I know it's small, but it's the thought that counts."

He frowned. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"It's not only for you. It's an engagement gift, so it's for you and your fiancée."

Five heads, including Eric and Nell's, who were downstairs sparring a cold case, snapped up at those words. Deeks, who was in the process of cleaning his desk, stopped mid-motion, and Kensi and Sam fell silent. Hetty snickered. "I gather that you haven't told them yet?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "What's the big deal, you guys? I proposed, she said yes."

And so the mayhem started. They all spoke at once, pulled him into hugs and wanted to know details. "We need to go out for celebratory drinks!"

"Engaged…" Sam muttered. "You ask him how his vacation was and he forgets to mention that he got engaged."

"I didn't forget… I just…. It's only been a week. We got back on Friday. It's Monday. Besides, you asked me how my vacation was and like I said, it was great. I didn't think you all wanted to know I went down on one knee with my heart in my hands hoping she'd say yes."

"Of course we want to know," Kensi said. "Getting engaged is a huge step, especially for you. We're all just excited because we think she's great and you were brave enough to take the leap."

Callen rolled his eyes. "Well, there you go. Should I call her so we can go to dinner, then?"


	43. Chapter 43

And another chapter! Thanks for all the support, reviews and follows everyone. It means the world. :-)

* * *

When Grisha stepped through the door the following Thursday, he found his fiancée glued to her laptop, again. She'd been busy meeting the insurance company, searching for a new venue, and writing a new business plan, so he smiled, kissed the top of her head and disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Just as he put the lid on the tagine, he heard her shout in triumph.

"I found it!"

He turned the heat under the tagine down and went back to the dining room. "What? A venue?"

"A house." She half-turned in her chair and reached for him, her eyes still stuck to her screen. "Look at it. Split level, three beds, two baths, a big enough garden to have a massive dining table… And the best part is that they have a separate guesthouse, which is perfect for when we have family coming over, or to convert to a workshop space."

Grisha laughed at her enthusiasm. "Slow down. Let me see it."

Dee scrolled through the pictures with him, explaining why it would be perfect. It was light, airy, had a big enough kitchen, although the stove would have to go because wasn't going to do with just four burners and the French doors leading to the balcony in the master bedroom were gorgeous… Stealing a glance at the price, Grisha calculated in his head. If they sold their house and they put a big of savings in it, it could work. And judging the way Dee was already re-furnishing in her head, she was in love with it, which meant that he was going to do everything to make her happy.

"Call the realtor," he said, getting up. "Make an appointment."

"Really?" Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, biting her lower lip.

"You love it, don't you?" When it stayed silent as he walked back to the kitchen, he called out. "Babe?"

"Well, yes… But you have to love it, too. It's a big investment."

"I know." He mixed the oil-and-lemon juice dressing with a fork as Dee came to lean against the doorpost, her doubt still etched on her face. "You won't know for sure if you live it until you see it. It may look ready to move in, but there is no way to be certain unless you see it. And if we're going to live there for, say, twenty years, it'll be worth the investment."

She raised an eyebrow at him, not totally convinced. "And that from the man who couldn't bring himself to buy a couch a year ago."

Grisha lifted a shoulder and grinned. "What can I say? I'm a changed man."

For a moment, she regarded him. "Are you sure?"

"Why the sudden doubt, sweetheart? You were over the moon two minutes ago." Putting his fork down, he took the few steps to where she was standing.

Dee took a deep breath. "I calculated the mortgage in my head. It's gorgeous, but the down payment alone will leave a serious dent in our savings."

"Probably." He shrugged. "Which will be worth it if we love what we're buying."

"Mmm."

Amused, he shook his head, pressed a kiss to her temple and went back to the counter to start their salad. "Call the realtor. Make an appointment. If you're still as happy with it after the tour as you are now, we'll find a way to make it work."

"It's the first house," she protested. "It's literally the first house I see, Grisha."

"So? It could be the fourth, or the fifteenth. Call. Go see it."

Early morning Saturday, Dee went to see the house. Callen got called away for a loose end on a case, so she was on her own. Getting out of the car, she squinted against the light. It was quiet around her, which she liked. The red fencing she wouldn't have picked, but they could always replace that. Closing the door, she felt her phone vibrate in her bag. _On my way. Should be there in twenty._

Ah, he was coming after all. She sent him a thumbs up and walked around to the front entrance of the fence. The garden was as huge as the pictures had made her believe it was, which was good. Enough room for an outdoor kitchen and the massive family table she dreamt about.

"Miss Barrow?"

Caught off guard, she looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spook you." The man held out his hand. "Adam Howser. We spoke on the phone?"

"We did." Dee shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you." She pushed her hair out of her face. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"Absolutely not, you're right on time." Adam smiled. "Shall we go inside?"

Dee's eyes strayed to the guesthouse. "Actually, would you mind if we start with the guesthouse? I have proportions in my head and I really want to see if they add up."

"Of course." Adam preceded her in the other direction. "It's perfect for guests, you can even rent it out because it's completely self-sufficient. Everything your guests could need is there: kitchen, bathroom, a washing machine." He fished in his pocket for the key. "Did you have anything specific in mind?"

"That depends on the space."

"Here you go." Adam opened the door to let her in.

Dee looked around, trying to figure out if breaking down the wall between the kitchen and living room would give her enough room. She pointed to it. "Is that a load bearing wall?"

"No, not that I know of."

"That's good." Dee rummaged in her bag and produced a pen and paper. As Adam watched in amusement, she made a quick drawing of the space. "You'll think I'm crazy; and I 'm leaving you with that impression." Having finished her sketch, she pointed to the doorway on the other side. "Bathroom and bedroom? Can I see it?"

Adam patiently led her through the rest of the guesthouse, as Dee scribbled notes on her paper, mumbling to herself. At last, she folded her paper in half and nodded. "Yes, that'll do."

"Are you sure? No other corner you'd like see?"

Dee shook her head, chuckling. "No, this is it."

Adam took her from the guesthouse in the direction of the house. "Uhuh." Dee looked around the garden. "The garden wraps around the house?"

"It does. And since you have all those trees here, you're pretty much out of sight, which gives you great privacy."

"It does." She spotted Grisha's car pulling up the curb. "Ah, there he is."

"He? Were we still waiting for someone?"

"My fiancée. He needs to see the house. The guesthouse, we'll figure out if and when we're buying."

Grisha got out of his car and strolled in their direction. "Hi, sweetie. I'm sorry I'm late."

She squeezed his hand. "Glad you make it. Grisha, this is Adam Howser; Adam, Grisha Callen."

Callen eyed the realtor for a moment, then decided that he couldn't be bothered and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you." He turned to Dee. "You've seen the guesthouse yet?"

"I have."

"And?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "It has potential."

Grisha rolled his eyes. "Okay."

Adam took them in the direction of the house while talking about details. "They renovated the house three years ago: all new plaster, new master bath, new floors, new kitchen. It's basically ready to move in." He opened the front door. "Ladies first."

Deja stepped into the living room. It was as light and airy, and big enough. "I'm never going to get used to the fact that American houses open in the living room," she muttered.

Grisha laughed. "Oh, now you're going all European on me?"

"You're not from here?" Adam informed.

"I've lived here for the past fifteen years, but I'm from London." She turned to Grisha. "It's big enough, right?"

"It is," he agreed.

"I like the flooring," Dee said. "Real wood. Takes work, but it's worth it for the vibe of it. Oh, the kitchen!"

"Like I said, they put in a new kitchen three years ago. All stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, enough storage…"

Grisha leant into Adam. "You can save the speech. She's s a chef, she knows what she wants."

"Ah." Adam watched as Dee studied the kitchen. "In that case, why are you looking to move?"

He'd been thinking about that question. He couldn't tell the truth. But he hadn't really thought of another answer, either. Dee, thankfully, had. "We'd like to start a family, and our house is beginning to feel smallish." Well, at least the first part was true. "Besides, I'm relocating my café and we're trying to keep the commute as short as possible." Which would be true if she had actually found a new venue. Hetty was right; she would've made a great agent.

"Well, this is a great buy if you're looking to upgrade a bit. The kitchen to your liking?"

Dee nodded. "Whoever lives here likes to cook. Shelves are great, more than enough space… I like it."

Adam gave them the full tour. Three bedrooms, two baths and the yard later, Grisha knew he had to make some calls.

Dee was right, she'd found their house.


	44. Chapter 44

Enjoy another chapter, guys! I pushed this chapter back a bit from where I first intended this to happen, but that means that my entire timeline shifts a few weeks. Caro, if you're reading this, we're not going to make October. ;-) Let me know what you think!

* * *

The next Tuesday he woke up with a splitting headache. Dee fed him aspirin and caffeine free tea, and made him promise not to overdo it. He felt ill at ease, and it was not only because of his headache.

Dee called Sam for the first time in a long time to carpool, and his partner showed up a little while later, pleasantly surprised. "To what do I owe the honor of picking you up?"

Dee shook her head at him. "Don't get your hopes up; he won't be approachable until the aspirin kicks in."

"What'd he do?"

"Bad night." She searched for Grisha's eyes. "You take it easy, today, okay? Don't make me call Hetty."

Grisha grumbled something and went after Sam. Sam looked back at Dee. "He hasn't been like this in a while."

"Splitting headache. The aspirin should help, but something's bothering him and I don't think he has figured out what it is yet." She shrugged. "Make sure he takes it easy today? Whatever it is, he'll tell one of you eventually. I'll give Hetty a call just in case."

"Yeah." Sam winked at her. "I'll take care of him."

"Thanks, Sam."

The uneasy feeling he had stayed throughout the day. It was there when Kensi and Deeks argued about the last details of the wedding and when Sam threatened to throw them in a room together until they worked things out. Thankfully, the aspirin took the sharp edges of his headache, but he still wasn't in a good mood.

He felt slightly nauseous when Eric called them up to OPS for a case. It stayed when it turned out that one of Arkady's contacts was involved, and he lashed out, mad, when Arkady threw the same smoke curtains he always did. Hetty called him into her office halfway through the day. Silently, she handed him tea and he sat down. She let him brood for a moment before she spoke. "What has gotten into you? Something has you worried. Are you worried about your new house?"

He shook his head. "Technically, it's not our house until we get approved. So no, I'm not worried about that."

"Then what is? Mr. Kolcheck didn't deserve such a lashing out, no matter what he did."

Solemnly, he tilted his head and looked down into his cup. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You should apologize to Mr. Kolcheck, not to me."

"I will." Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head to look at her again. "I don't know what it is. I didn't sleep well for the first time in.. a while, and I can't seem to shake the feeling that something is not quite right. But I don't know what it is, exactly."

Hetty eyed him. "Is it the case?"

"Not particularly. It was there when I woke up this morning. And trust me, Hetty, I usually sleep fine these days."

"Mmm." Hetty stared into the distance for a moment. "Well, you know your sixth sense. There's no café to be blown up, and last I checked, all your enemies were either dead or under lock and key. Try and stay out of trouble and keep yourself in check."

"Yeah." Still not feeling better, he rose, put his cup and saucer on her desk and went back to work. Arkady's trail took them to the hospital, then to the morgue and back to the hospital again. And while passing one of the waiting rooms in the hallway, he knew exactly where his trepidation had come from. Because in one of the rooms was his father.

Sam was standing next to him as his father offered a greeting and Callen felt his shoulders sag. So that was why he had felt at odds with himself. He'd only met the man once the year before, but he'd known, somehow, that he was around.

He was hostile during questioning; maybe more so than he should have been. But here was the man that had abandoned him when he was five, and he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting him to pay for everything he'd gone through when he was growing up.

Nikita, or Garrison, or whatever his name was, stonewalled him, not wanting to reveal what he was doing in the States. His father was almost as good in throwing up walls as he was. Callen bristled when he didn't get anywhere and stalked out of the room.

He barked orders at Eric and Nell, and went outside, throwing the door closed. The three team members left threw each other worried glances before Deeks went out after him. He found Callen leaning against the car, staring off into the ocean.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Deeks shook his head. "Why are you so mad at him?" he asked, trying to get him to open up anyway.

Callen let his breath out. "He's stonewalling me completely. He won't let me help. He comes waltzing in here, thinking that he doesn't have to tell us why he's here…" Shaking his head, he halted. "He's not going to give me answers."

Deeks understood. After all this time, all Callen wanted was answers instead of the smoke screens and half-truths. He wanted honesty. And if there was something Deeks could understand, it was the need for answers. "He might. But like you, he's done things by himself for a long time. I'm sure he knows you're angry with him. And from your point of view, you have every right to be. But frankly, we have a case to solve. So all your personal stuff has to wait until we know what's going on."

Callen knew that Deeks was right. Not that he liked it. So he took a cleansing breath and stowed all his anger deep down inside, saving it for later. Going back inside, he tried again, trying to keep his temper in check. But his father kept stonewalling him, and Callen gave up.

He threw Nikita/Garrison out of the boatshed, but not before he put a tracker on the older man, so he could figure out where he was going. As they threw around ideas of why his father was here, he texted his fiancée, telling her that it was going to be long day. He got kisses in return.

In the end, he found out his father had come to protect someone from his past. Someone his father had loved, like he had loved Callen's mother and his sister. Him. They were nowhere near reconnecting, but Callen had a better idea of why his father had done what he had done. By 9 PM Callen was standing outside of the boatshed again, his father by his side. He turned to the older man. "We're done keeping secrets, okay? If you're here to stay, and you want to have some kind of relationship with me, you and I need to talk."

His father looked older that night than he had when Callen had found him in the hospital that morning. But Garrison nodded, giving in. "Yes, we do."

Callen eyed him. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

It took a lot of resolve from his father to admit that he did not. "I'll go to a hotel."

"I'm not letting you stay in a hotel. You're coming with me."

"Whereto?"

"Home."

* * *

I tried to stick to the original episode as much as possible, but without involving Alex and her son. It was just a way to get Garrison back into Grisha's life without having to figure out something completely new. Alex and her kid are not going to exist in this universe. I simply used the existing storyline to get Garrison back in.


	45. Chapter 45

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! This, for some reason, turned out to be a sort of in-between chapter as well, because I couldn't get Garrison's story stuffed in one chapter. So it stops at the start and I'm going to continue it in the next chapter, which I'm going to outline as soon as I post this. Enjoy!

* * *

Grisha turned the engine off and pulled the key out of the ignition. He turned to Garrison. "We're here."

Garrison looked up at the house. There was light on in the living room, which suggested there was someone there. Was there someone in his son's life? Someone special? " Are you sure it's not a problem? Me staying here?"

Grisha shrugged, not as comfortable as he let on. " There's more than enough room. You're family." It's what he hoped Dee would see when he brought his father home with him in a few moments. He hadn't thought to call ahead and prepare her for a guest.

If Dee was surprised to see a visitor, she didn't show it. She looked up from the notebook she was scribbling in when he opened the door and smiled. "Hey, babe."

"Hey." Grisha stepped into the room and closed the door behind him and Garrison. Tentitavely, he took a step in her direction, toying with his keys.

Sensing the shift in energy, Dee closed her laptop and put her pen down. When nothing came, she started with the simple questions. "How is your headache?"

"Better." He licked his lips and swallowed.

"Did you need any more aspirin?"

"I took one extra around lunchtime."

"Okay." When he still didn't elaborate, she tilted her head to the side. "Don't overthink whatever it is you're trying to say, babe. It's only me."

Swallowing hard, he gestured to Garrison. "I'd like you to meet Garrison. My dad." Although everyone else had said those words throughout the day, he had stubbornly kept calling his father by his name. The words tasted strange on his tongue, but he had no other words to offer her to explain why he had brought this man into their home.

Her eyes grew wide for a split second and then she rose, extending her hand to Garrison. "That's a surprise. It's nice to meet you. I'm Deja, his fiancée."

Garrison shook her hand, seemingly as uncomfortable as his son. "Likewise." She was special alright.

When neither men didn't offer anything else, she chuckled. "Well, the most important question right now, for me is: have you eaten?"

Grisha shook his head. "No."

"I thought so. Get your coats on the rack, take a seat. Would you like some tea?"

Grisha could see what she was doing and he was utterly grateful for it. She was falling into the role of hostess; as if Garrison had walked into Indulge and she only had to feed him. It gave Grisha time to gather his wits. He followed her into the kitchen. "I'm sorry I didn't call," he started. "I… This was a spur of the moment thing."

"That's all right." She put the kettle on and turned the heat on under a pan already on the stove. When she noticed his stance, she stopped and turned to him. "Are you okay with him being here?"

"I couldn't send him to a hotel."

"That's a practicality that doesn't quite answer my question."

He thought about it. "I don't know yet," he answered truthfully.

"Oh, sweetie…" Taking his head between her hands, she locked eyes with him. "How did you find him, anyway? He just showed up?"

"He… He showed up on a case we were working today."

"He is here for work?"

"He's here…" Grisha shook his head, not finding the sufficient words. "He's here for something work-related that became personal."

Dee nodded, not completely understanding what he meant, but knowing that he couldn't elaborate on it right now. "Do you want to talk with him? About your past?"

"Eventually."

Eventually. Not now, when his emotions were still so raw. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered. "And I'm so proud of you for giving him a chance."

Grisha held her close. "Thank you." Then he thought of something and let go of her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Are _you_ okay with him being here? I didn't check anything with you, I just assumed…"

She put a finger to his lips. "It's fine. He's family. There's always room for family."

Beyond thankful for that answer, he kissed her forehead. "What did I ever do without you?"

Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she looked up at him. "Nobody knows…" She winked and stepped out of his embrace. "Now, back to the dining room you go. Try and talk to him. I'll be right there with soup."

"Thank you." He went back to Garrison and sat down on the long end of the table.

"I appreciate it, Grisha. I realize this is highly inconvenient for you both."

"Well, I'm not letting you stay in a hotel when we have room. It's no trouble." He was not entirely sure that that last statement was truthful, but he had to start somewhere.

It stayed quiet for a while. "So, you got engaged."

"We did. A few weeks ago."

"Have you known each other long?"

Grisha shook his head. "We met a few weeks after we left Russia with Arkady."

"Does she know?"

"She does."

Dee came into the room with a tray loaded with tea. "Let it sit for another moment. I hope you like soup, I made it just this afternoon. It's warming."

The men silently stirred in their tea as Dee rummaged around in the kitchen. Grisha could tell the moment Garrison smelled something familiar. He had smelled when he was in the kitchen; Dee had made borsjstj.

When Deja came back, she put a steaming bowl in front of Garrison, who looked at it in surprise. A tentative smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat. "Borsjstj?"

Having put bread and butter in front of them, Dee sat down, folding one of her feet under her. "Borsjstj. It's one of Grisha's favourites."

After the first bite, Garrison closed his eyes. "Oh…" When he opened them, they were glassy with tears. Again, he cleared his throat. "This is how your mother used to make it. She… It was one of Amy's favourites as well."

Grisha almost chocked on his spoonful, but Dee saw that he didn't dare to give another response. Handing him a napkin, she turned her attention back to Garrison. "Is it? I found it in a really old Russian book, I had it translated."

"It is." Slowly, he took another spoonful. "Clara made this often… I remember Amy asking for it."

Dee smiled. "Was she a good cook? Clara?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "Nothing she made was fancy, but her soups were great. Then again, there was no fancy food in the Sovjet Union."

Dee reached under the table and squeezed Grisha's leg. "How did you meet? She was American, right?"

For a moment, Garrison's gaze rested on his son. Then he looked back at Deja. "Clara's mother was Romanian. Clara was born in Romania, then when her father died, she and her mother left for America. She came back to Romania as a CIA-agent. I was a Major in the KGB…"


	46. Chapter 46

I'm sorry, everyone! I wasn't happy with the other version, so I wrote a new one. (insert 'see-no-evil' emoji here). This one is (I hope) a bit more refined, a bit better balanced.

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"… because things are not always black and white!"

Deja glanced between the two men. It was passed midnight and Grisha wasn't coping well. He was running out of patience; not sure what he wanted to hear, but not happy with the answers Garrison was giving him, either.

Dee suspected that he wanted things to be cut and dry; to have clarity. He could handle clarity. But when it came to things from his past, the answers involved emotions, and Dee wondered if he was as ready for the answers as he had thought he was. She put a calming hand on his arm. "Why don't we call it a night? It's been a long day for you both, and things will look different when we've all had some time to process all that's been said tonight."

Grisha swallowed hard, his eyes blazing, his jawline set. For a moment, Dee feared he wasn't going to give in, but he nodded, dropping back into his chair. "Yeah, let's do that."

Silently relieved he'd given in, Dee turned to Garrison. "You must be exhausted, too." Her eyes travelled around the living room. "No luggage?"

"No luggage."

"We'll find you something."

Garrison, rising from his chair, looked at his son. When Grisha refused to make eye contact, he wordlessly followed Deja to the stairs. "I cannot give him what he wants to hear."

"I don't think he knows what he wants to hear." Dee opened the door to the guestroom. "I may not be a spy, but I understand that nothing is as black and white as we may want things to be. Maybe he wasn't as ready for answers as he thought he was."

Garrison huffed. "Last year he told me the reasons mattered."

Dee opened a closet to get sheets. "Well, yes, but _wanting_ answers and _getting_ answers are two different things, Garrison."

He stood in the doorway, watching her make the bed. "You seem to know him well."

"I do."

"Do you think he blames me for not coming for him? For not taking him back to Russia with me?"

Dee looked back over her shoulder. "I'm not sure," she answered truthfully. "It's probably not Russia he missed. I think he blames you for not giving him anything to go by, any sign that you were still alive, when you have known where he's been and what's he done all this time. To be honest, I'd feel the same way if it were me."

"I was only trying to protect him."

"Mmm… I know that." Deja sighed, planting her hands on her hips. "It doesn't feel that way to him, though. To him, you've been absent. To him, you've let him be dragged around from foster home to foster home, without even knowing his name. And there were thirty-seven foster homes, Garrison. _Thirty-seven_. I'm not saying that I don't understand your reasons, but no kid should have to suffer through that. A lot of the issues he still deals with, are because of that. Again, I'm not saying that I don't understand why you've done things, but if I were in his shoes, I'd be dishing out blame, too."

"But he turned out fine. He's done his country proud. He's done me proud."

Dee nodded, thoughtfully. "But at what cost? At the cost of chasing a ghost his whole life? At the cost of not knowing exactly where he belongs? Who his family is? I've known my family my entire life, and even though I sometimes hate them for getting under my skin, I do have people that will be there when things get tough. Grisha hasn't had that. He didn't even know about Amy until a few years ago. He's never had a family. Never had anyone to catch him or to feel safe with. He has that now, but he's fought tooth and nail to get it."

"I don't believe in apologies," Garrison said, but Dee could see that he was starting to understand her point.

"You don't have to apologize to him. Things are what they are. But yes, he is going to have trouble to hear your answers. Because his truth may always be that you didn't want him."

Garrison clenched his jaw. "I've always wanted him. I always wanted all of them."

"I know." Dee took a breath. "And I'm not saying that you didn't. But his entire life up until a certain point has always been about finding who he is. He's had bits and pieces but never the whole picture. And now that he has the whole picture, it will take time to process that." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, I'm saying this so you might understand him better."

Thoughtfully, Garrison nodded and swallowed hard. "Thank you."

"Let's find you some clothes and a toothbrush, okay?"

Ten minutes later, she was back downstairs in the living room. He was sitting with his back to her, the contents of the tea box strewn around the coffee table. He didn't look up when she threw her leg over the back of the couch and settled next to him. She reached over and wiped a tear of his cheek. "You okay?"

Nodding, he lifted his eyes to her. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I wouldn't let it go."

"That's all right."

"Is it?"

"It is," she assured him. "After all these years your puzzle is finally complete. Lots of emotions. I get it."

Again, he nodded, looking away. "It will take a while to get used to a complete puzzle."

"And that's fine, babe." She rubbed circles on his back. "Nobody expects you to get used to your father being here instantly, let alone that you're expected to have some sort of relationship with him out of nowhere. These things take time and you should take all the time you need."

The muscles in his back move beneath her hand as he rearranged some photos. "None of it is what I anticipated, or assumed it would be. I don't know why I'm angry that it isn't."

"Because you hoped. And because the reasons you came up with in your head are actually ones you would understand, too. But at some point you are going to have to accept that his life, and his truth, are so very different from yours. And that, too, takes time."

"I've been waiting all my life," he softly said. "And now that I have all the answers I always longed for, I don't know how to handle it."

She shrugged and leaned her head against his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. We always do. We'll figure out how to handle your father being here, and we'll figure out how you are going to deal with him."

Wrapping her arm around her, he pressed a kiss to her temple. "What did I ever do without you?"

"That's the second time you've asked me tonight," she grinned, "and I still don't know the answer."

Silence filled the room and Deja could hear him think. Knowing he needed a moment to gather this thoughts, she didn't say anything. At last, he opened his mouth. "Do you think she's proud of me?"

"Your mom?"

"Mmm…"

"Of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?"

Grisha clenched his jaw. "I don't know. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of… I'm not sure there's a lot to be proud of."

Dee pursed her lips. "Well, I do. And I'm sure that your mother feels the same, wherever she is."

"Thank you." His arm tightened around her. "For listening, and for being here. For not giving up on me."

"Never." She nuzzled his neck. "Are you ready for bed? It's going to be an early day tomorrow."

"Yeah." He started to gather the pictures back together. Maybe sleep wouldn't come easy tonight, if at all, but at least he and his father had made a start. And that was something to be thankful for.


	47. Chapter 47

Hi! Before you start, go back to chapter 46 and re-read. I've uploaded a new version a few days ago. Then come back and read this one. ;-)

Thanks for all the reviews and follows, everyone! Enjoy!

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Grisha was quiet the next morning. As always when he struggled with something, he was distracted and short-tempered. Dee didn't mind that much, as she knew he had barely slept, but his team studied him when he was curt.

Deeks lifted an eyebrow at him when he didn't respond to the banter between him and Kensi. "Callen? You okay?"

Callen briefly glanced up from his laptop. "Fine, Deeks."

Taking in his set shoulders, the cup that was filled with coffee instead of tea this morning, and the way he didn't actually look at him, Deeks understood that he wasn't fine, but that he wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

When their workday ended in paperwork, Deeks was outside, leaning against the hood of his car. Sam was taking Kensi home. He stepped in Callen's way. "Come on, we're doing out for drinks."

Callen sighed, warily eyeing the younger man. "Why?"

"Because your father arrived in town yesterday, and you need to vent."

For once, Callen didn't put up a fight. He didn't even hesitate. That alone told Deeks that he was struggling. He didn't need encouragement, the words just came when they had found a dimly lit corner in a bar somewhere. Marty listened quietly as Grisha told him everything Garrison had told him the night before. He closely watched the conflicting emotions cross his friends' face and deciphered the underlying tensions and tried to read between the lines. And Marty understood why Grisha was conflicted.

"It was a lot, huh?" Marty said when Grisha finally stopped talking.

"Yeah." Grisha toyed with the beer bottle in front of him. "And like I told Dee, this puzzle is finally complete, and he's here, but I don't know how to cope with it."

"Forty-something years in s long time to be searching for someone. I can imagine things blurring together over that period of time."

"What do you mean?"

Signaling for another round, Marty shrugged. "What I mean is that you haven't had a chance to go through your range of emotions with him yet. Right now, you're still parts pissed, disappointed, sad and probably more scared than you think. And Garrison laying out his reasons to you last night may have very well caused you to feel guilty, too, because you feel all those things. So go be pissed, and disappointed and sad. Go and be them in his face. He deserves to hear your side of the story. Like you deserved to know his reasons, he's entitled to know how it's effected you. Go and be all that. God knows I've wished for the chance to be all that in Gordon's face."

"How is that going to help? The man's been through enough." Grisha shook his head.

"Gordon got his lashing out. He died, but I went and yelled at him anyway."

"Did it help?"

"If nothing else, at least it made me feel better." Marty took a swig. "You don't have to protect him from your emotions, Grisha. You're not his parent. He's supposed to be yours."

"His reasons are not what I thought they would be." Again, he shook his head. "Dee says to give it time, that I may never completely understand or accept them. But I can't seem to grasp that you would let your kid grow up without you. I think I'd rather kill myself than letting it ever come to that."

"You've seen the other side of medal. Dee's right, though, maybe you won't ever understand. But that doesn't mean that you can't let him know how you feel."

Contemplating Marty's words, Grisha stared at his beer. Maybe he had a point. He hadn't told Garrison his version of the truth; Garrison didn't fully know what it had done to him to be left alone.

On the other side of town, Hetty picked up the phone. She had sent her team home earlier and had seen that Deeks had left with Callen. Deja answered on the second ring. "Hey, Hetty."

"Hello, dear."

"Is everything okay?"

Not one to beat around the bush, Hetty dove in headfirst. "What happened last night?"

The woman on the other end sighed. "He wasn't too much of a grouch I hope?"

"Let's just say that he wasn't entirely himself today."

"Yes…" Dee said. "He and Garrison had their long overdue conversation last night, and I think that Grisha wasn't as ready to hear the reasons as he thought he was. He hasn't slept, and I'm guessing it's going to take a little while for all of it to sink in and be accepted."

"They already had that conversation?"

Deja nodded, although she knew Hetty wouldn't be able to see it. "It happened. I asked Garrison about Clara and one thing led to another." She shrugged. "It wasn't the best timing, but I suspect Garrison wanted the conversation out of the way so they could move forward."

Hetty could understand. "Was it what he expected it to be?"

"No," Deja answered. "But then again, nothing he could've dreamed up would be able to come close to what Garrison has told him. Things like this are never black and white, no matter how much he wanted them to be."

"Do you think he needs a few days?"

"I don't think we have that luxury. Garrison is staying with us, they don't have a way around each other and in all honesty, I think that's good. The sooner they have this out of the way, the sooner they get to start over."

"Is there anything I can do to help? I can get Nate back here if you want to," Hetty offered.

The thought had crossed Deja's mind earlier that day. "No. Give him a little time. Marty took him out for drinks, which I'm extremely grateful for, considering his wedding is in three days. I'm hoping it'll do him some good."

"Marty is a good friend."

"He is," Deja agreed. "And if nothing else, it'll give Grisha a chance to vent."

When Grisha finally arrived home an hour and a half later, he found his father and Deja sitting at the dining table. Sensing that he wanted a moment alone, Dee gathered up her things and disappeared into the garden. Grisha looked at Garrison. "We need to talk."


	48. Chapter 48

Hi, everyone! I apologize for the inconsistency in updates lately. Can't really explain it, will do better. ;-) Thanks for reviewing and welcome new followers. Hope you enjoy. :-)

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"Dee, we're going to be late!" Grisha rolled his eyes at his father as he tugged the cuffs of his shirt out of the sleeves of his jacket. "Do you remember Mom being late for things like this?"

Garrison looked up from the paper he was reading. "Your mother had not many occasions that she could dress up for," he said. "But when she did, yes, she could be less punctual."

Their conversation from three days earlier had been intense. Grisha had had trouble to get his feelings across, and they'd been at the point of giving up more than once, but eventually, after a lot of yelling and shouting, they had reached a truce. They were nowhere near fine, but the understanding meant that they could at least move forward.

Grisha sighed as he looked at his watch again. Then he heard sound by the stairs and Dee stepped into view; the long skirt of her dress gathered in her hands so she wouldn't trip over it. He gulped and blinked. She was gorgeous. So much so, that she was bound to give Kensi a run for her money, and she wasn't even trying.

She let go of the fabric and stuck her tongue out. "Much as I realize Kensi is the only one allowed to be late today, it takes time to look like this."

Grisha opened his mouth to complement her, but his father beat him to it. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Deja smiled. "Are you going to be okay staying here today?"

"Do not worry about me. I have a key, Grisha has told me to look in the fridge if I get hungry. Go, have fun. Tell them congratulations from me."

Grisha handed Deja her wrap and five minutes later they were on their way. "He was right, you know."

"Mmm? About what?"

"You look gorgeous. When did you have time to shop?"

She shifted in her seat, tugging at a strand of hair. "I didn't. I ran into Nordstrom the other day for your tie and it was there in all its floral perfection and I bought it on a whim. You really like it?"

"I really do." He squeezed her thigh. "Are you excited?"

"I am. It's good to have a day to celebrate."

"It is."

She smiled. "Maybe we'll get some ideas, too."

Turning a corner, it dawned on him that since they'd come back from Spain, things had been about the house, and his father, and her café, rather than about them and what they wanted for their wedding. He sighed. "I'm sorry, babe."

She was studying her appearance in a small mirror, but from the corner of his eye he could see her brows furrow. "Sorry? For what?"

"For this week being about me. We haven't even discussed the house. Or our wedding. Not since we've been back."

"You don't have to apologize. Your father showing up out of nowhere was guaranteed to throw you for a loop. I wouldn't have expected anything else. As we're waiting for approval on the house, there's little to discuss and as for our wedding… We'll set a date when we find a venue and I'm not going to look until the café has a new place to go."

Still, he felt bad. "Well, maybe, but I should've shown more interest."

Shaking her head, she squeezed his hand. "You're showing interest now. Let's watch Marty and Kensi get married, have a great day, and we'll find time tomorrow to discuss the house and the café. Over lunch, somewhere. That a good idea?"

"Just us?" He found himself in the mood for 'them'-time. Strolling through the vintage market, lunch in the sun and easy conversation.

"Just us. Much as I like your father, it'll be nice to have an afternoon for ourselves."

"It will be." That was it. He'd missed her, somehow. His father arriving seemed to mean that the last week had been about him and Garrison. An afternoon for them would be heaven.

Arriving at the beach, Grisha helped her out of the car. "It's gorgeous."

Deja nodded. "A very Marty and Kensi place to have a wedding."

"Not for us?"

"No." It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Unless, of course, you're completely set on the idea."

"You just vetoed it."

"Well, yeah…" She bit her lip. "Sort of. But if you want to have a beach wedding, we'll find a way to make it work."

He laughed, pulling her arm through his. "I don't want a beach wedding. I want whatever you want. Long as I get to marry you."

"Count on it."

Three hours later Marty and Kensi were officially Mr. and Mrs. Deeks and were having their first dance. As Grisha was waiting at the bar for drinks, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. "Julia." He kissed her on both cheeks. "Congratulations, they are a gorgeous pair."

"Thank you." She smiled. "Speaking of gorgeous, rumour has it she's your fiancée now?"

"She is."

"Congratulations. Introduce us?"

"Absolutely." He took the offered drinks and walked over to where Deja was standing talking to Hetty and Nell. "Dee?"

Laughing, she lifted her head. "Yes?"

"Dee, this is Julia, Kensi's mom. Julia, this is Deja."

"So nice to meet you."

"They tell me you're the girl he's been in love with since Christmas," Julia said.

"Only since Christmas?"

Grisha rolled his eyes. "Fishing for compliments, are we?"

"Maybe."

"Yes, yes, longer than just Christmas. You know that."

Looking up at him, she grinned. "I know that. It's really great to hear you say it, though." She winked at Julia. "All true. That's me."

"You're also the one who was giving him cooking lessons."

"I still am, on occasion. He's at the point I can leave him alone in the kitchen now and something edible will come out of it."

He pulled her close. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Her eyes danced as she looked up at him. "Considering you couldn't boil an egg when we first met, it really is."

The music changed to an up-tempo song and she took his drink from him. "It's nice meeting you, Julia, but I need to dance with him."

Dragging him over to the dance floor, the three women looked after them. Julia turned to Hetty. "She is good for him."

"She is," Hetty agreed.

"You expect them to get married soon?"

"I have no idea. Probably not, since they're buying a new house and his father showed up last week and Dee is in the middle of replacing her café… They have their hands full."

"Maybe they'll elope." Julia nodded to her daughter and son-in-law. "I expected them to elope, to be honest. I hadn't really thought that they'd have a… more elaborate wedding."

Hetty shrugged. "I don't know. Dee's been married before, so maybe they'll do something small, or just the two of them. I find it hard to predict."

"Long as they do something that fits them, right?"

"Of course."

Eric came to whisk Nell away and the two women were left alone again. Julia watched the group gathered on the dance floor. Then something dawned on her. "You put all of them together on purpose, didn't you?"

Hetty looked at her over the rim of her glass. "Why do you say that?"

"Kensi met Marty because she needed a partner and you picked him, and didn't Eric meet Nell because you wanted a team doing the tech stuff?"

"Maybe," Hetty answered, but Julia knew she had hit the nail on its head.

Julia laughed. "Good for you, Hetty. Well done. And thank you, because my daughter hasn't been as happy as she is now."

Hetty nodded, her eyes drifting to the one couple she hadn't had anything to do with. Deep down, maybe that was the one she was most proud of, too. Because he had managed to figure out he needed a life outside the office all by himself.


	49. Chapter 49

Hi, all! Here's another update! Sorry, life is a bit of whirlwind at the moment, but I've managed to put another chapter up. Let me know what you think! ;-)

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"I've been thinking," Dee said as they strolled in the direction of the vintage market.

Grisha put his sunglasses on and looked at her. "Are you sure I want to know?"

"I am."

They had decided on the vintage market and then lunch. Dee had picked a bistro nearby that she'd read rave reviews about but hadn't been to yet, and Grisha knew better than to argue.

Threading his fingers with hers, Grisha smiled. "Okay, let me have it."

"Why don't we let your dad live in the guesthouse? That way we can have a life, he can come and go as he pleases and he'll still be close enough to keep an eye on."

It stayed quiet as Grisha thought that over. "Let him live in the guesthouse?"

"Yeah. He's family. He's not getting any younger and I'm sure Hetty doesn't need to stay with us, especially now that she has Tom." Deja shifted her attention to a stall they passed. Not finding anything of interest, she turned back to Grisha.

"What do you think?"

"What about the workshop thing you were going to do?"

She shrugged. "I can always find a place with an extra back room to give workshops in. There's a place I'm going to scout tomorrow that I have a good feeling about, not too far from the house. It's a bit smaller than the one we had, but with an extra room of the side that could work for workshops. We don't _need_ the guesthouse for ourselves. And I know you hate the idea of strange people in our yard." She stuck her tongue out. "Don't think I didn't sense that."

He sighed. So much for trying to keep an open mind that that idea. "All right. But what if your family wants to visit? What are we going to do with them?"

She frowned. "What we always do. Let them stay in a hotel. We don't have room for them now, we won't have room when we move to another house. Besides, I know for a fact that my parents prefer the hotel over staying with us."

Still, he wasn't entirely convinced. He was touched that she wanted to offer the guesthouse to his father, but he wasn't sure that was the right course of action. "Tell you what. You go scout that location, and if that ticks all the boxes you want it to, then we'll decide on what do to with the guesthouse. In the meantime, I'll think about it. That sound fair?"

She squeezed his hand. "Just know that he offer is on the table."

"Thank you. It's very generous of you to even consider giving up that space for my dad."

"I know it's early days, but I think you need to get used to him being around. Take baby steps. I have a gut feeling he's here to stay, so think about it. That's all I'm asking."

"Yeah." He did, too. Grisha wasn't sure how he felt about it, yet. Promising he would consider it, he switched subjects. "So, can we talk about our wedding, now?"

"Someone eager to get married, huh?" she laughed, nudging his shoulder. "What about our wedding?"

"Yesterday give you any ideas?"

"Other than that the beach is out of the question? Mmm… maybe. But let's hear what you want first, since this is your preferred topic of conversation."

He grimaced. "How about we don't elope? Would that be a terrible idea?"

"That depends on why you wouldn't want to elope."

Glancing at her, he shook his head. "You're going to make me say it?"

"You started it," she grinned.

"Well, since I plan to do this only once, yesterday made me realize that it's important to have the team there, with our parents. You know, something small and simple, but with the people that we cherish and find important."

It took him fifteen seconds to notice the shift in energy from her. Deja let go of his hand and swallowed hard. Biting her lower hip, she shook her head, as if that was going to stop the wave of emotions rushing up. Grisha connected the dots in another five seconds. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her. How could he be so ignorant? It had been two months since she'd lost her best friend, and here he was blabbering about inviting the people they cared about to their wedding. But she couldn't invite her best friend because being with him had gotten her best friend killed. How could he have forgotten that she was still in the middle of a mourning process?

"Forgive me," he whispered in her hair. "That was utterly insensitive."

Breathing out, she shook her head. "No, it's not…"

"Yes, it is," he contradicted. "Here I go talking about inviting all the people that matter to us most, and it doesn't even cross my mind that you won't be able to." He held her closer. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

Bravely, she nodded. "I know." She sniffed. "It doesn't happen that often anymore… It's just… I miss her. Stupid as it sounds, I miss her when I'm looking at venues, and when we got engaged she was the second person I wanted to call other than my mom, and all those small things you normally share with your best friend. And she's not here to tell them to."

He remembered how she had cried her eyes out before she went to London. During their vacation he'd seen her grief in little things, but since he'd gone back to work, he hadn't really noticed. "It's not stupid to miss her. I'd be more worried if you didn't." Grisha pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't hesitate to tell me, okay? I'm sorry I haven't noticed."

"Last week, when I bought my dress, I was standing with my phone in hand, ready to call her, when it hit me that I couldn't share something trivial as a dress with her anymore. It keeps hitting me with those small things."

Grisha rubbed her back. "And the little things keep reminding you of her not being here anymore." He understood. It was an ongoing process of her missing her best friend. And planning their wedding was not going to help. "We can skip the wedding talk," he offered.

Deja wiped her face dry and shook her head. "No, the wedding talk is fine." The corners of her mouth pulled up in a small smile. "Expect me to break down like this more than I want to, though."

"You're entitled to all the break downs in the world." He would have understood if she was done talking about their wedding. But he admired her for wanting to plough through.

She sniffed. "To get back on topic: what exactly does small mean? A courthouse wedding? A wedding weekend with a group of twenty? No reception? How far have you thought this through?"

Apparently, not far enough. Grisha shrugged. "I haven't. Yesterday made me realize that I want them there. I haven't thought anything else through yet. Details like that are more your thing."

That made her laugh and shake her head. "Okay." She pulled her phone out. "Since this is confession time, I have one of my own. You are right. It wouldn't be right without our family there. But I'm not keen on inviting fifty or a hundred people."

No, he wasn't either. "We don't have to invite fifty. Fifty would be a bit much."

She turned the screen of her phone to him. "How's this? That enough?"

Silently, he studied the list. He frowned. "That list has more people on my side than it does on yours."

"It does." She nodded. "Much as I love my family, I'm not going to invite all of them over from Spain and London. Especially the Spanish side will expect a complete catholic ceremony in a church, and I'm more a non-religious ceremony kind of girl. I would love to have Nanna and Abuela there, but I'm not sure Nanna is up for the trip."

Still, Grisha wasn't convinced. "So, just your parents, Jess, and your grandmothers? Are you sure? You're the one who always says family is important."

"Well, your family is going to be my family, too. If we can convince Abuela and Nanna to attend, I'll be the happiest girl on the planet."

He was going to take her word for it. "Okay. Your parents, Abuela and Nanna, the team and my father."

"That's twenty-five at best."

"That's something we can work with."

"Right? Twenty-five would be perfect."


	50. Chapter 50

Hi! I know it's been ages, really no excuse other than that I got a bit of writers block and summer was here! :-) Hope to be back on track now.

Thanks for all the new follows and reviews. Let me know if you enjoyed!

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Deja put a crate down and wiped her hair back from her face. She turned to Jess. "You have the other one?"

Looking around, Jess nodded. "The car is empty." Curious, she folded a flap back and peeked into the box. "Oh, it's pretty!"

"Right? You don't mind me buying it without conferring?"

"On glassware? Are you insane?"

Rounding the bar of her, their, new café, Deja shrugged. "You're my partner now, Jessie, for better or worse. We're supposed to make these kinds of decisions together."

It had been plain luck, to be honest, that Deja had found the property. She had visited one of her favorite places just around the corner of her old building, when she'd run into the owner, talking to a realtor. As it turned out, the owner wanted to retire and spent more time with his family, and she had caught him just as he had shown the realtor around. Deciding to be bold, Deja had asked if she could look at it. Two hours and a cup of coffee later, she walked out of her new cafe. It was only later, when she talked to Grisha about it, that she thought of asking Jess to fill in Lindy's old position, because running a café was so much easier with two.

The only thing that didn't sit particularly well with Dee was that she couldn't tell Jess the real reason there was no more old Indulge. Grisha was sending Eric and Nell over in a few days, as it was still weeks before the opening, to set up an intricate alarm system that should keep everyone out that didn't need to be there. Dee prayed that it would be enough.

"Well, I decide that I like your taste. Where in the world did you find these?" Jess held a blue-green water glass against the light. "The color is amazing!"

Dee nodded. "I was wandering in one of my favorite thrift-shops, looking for nothing in particular. You know how it goes." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "They had brought in a few dozen of them, and Gerard thought it might be something for us."

"They're perfect," Jess said, wrapping the glass back in paper. "We have nowhere to store them yet, though. Not before we move all of the old furniture out."

"I know." Deja sighed. "I'll take them back to the car later, but I figured you should see them first." Reaching for her bag, she pulled color swatches for paint and drapery. The rest of the morning was spent talking about colors and how to redecorate the space.

Jess circled tables in a catalog and thoughtfully bit her lip. "It's going to be smaller," she said. "I didn't realize until now that we're adding up numbers. We're not going to have as many tables."

"Yeah," Dee agreed. "On the other hand, we can fit a small bar over the length of the window, with stools, which will give us a few extra seats. But yes, it's a bit smaller than what we had."

"It's not necessarily a bad thing." Jess looked around. "It makes it a bit cozier, I think." She stretched her hands above her head and yawned. "When do you want to do the menu? Can you squeeze it in this week, in between moving?"

"Not really." Deja touched her phone to look at the time. "We're showing the house to Garrison in an hour and a half, for the first time. I spent all day yesterday cleaning it for him, and then Grisha helped pack the last few things yesterday evening. I'll be so glad when the weekend is over and the move is definite."

"I can imagine. You want to push menu's to next week?" Jess leafed through her calendar. "And when are the interviews for the extra waiters again?"

Deja gave her a blank look. "We had planned those?"

"We had." Jess knew exactly when it was growing Deja over her head. Which was now. She chuckled. "Never mind. It's in an email somewhere. You concentrate on moving this weekend, we'll figure all the other stuff out next week, okay?"

Nodding, Deja rolled her eyes. "It's only a few more days. But it's juggling this new venue, with everything that comes with it, and Grisha has been working crazy hours lately, so he's trying to help and squeeze in time to help packing. Thankfully, the painting is all done, and I only have to pack the last few things and take Garrison shopping for new furniture. His kitchen and bathroom took longer than expected, so it's set us back at least a week." She took a deep breath, pushing her hair back. "I just want it to be over so I can concentrate on the fun things again."

"Moving is fun." Jess winked.

"Not when you're moving three things at the same time. It's a bit much. Feels like I'm ready for another vacation."

"It'll be Christmas before you know it."

"Let's hope so." Packing up the swatches and fabric pieces, Deja swung her bag over her shoulder and reached for a crate. "Help me put these back? Are you okay locking up?"

Five minutes later, Dee was on her way to her new house. They had purposely waited to show Garrison their new home. After Grisha decided that he wanted his father to have the guesthouse, they had looked to renovate and put in a new kitchen and update the bathroom. But that had resulted in having to paint the whole thing again, which had pushed their moving date back by two weeks.

Deja was ready for their move to be over, only because that would mean she had room to breathe, and to have her own home again. Not that she minded having Garrison around, but after three months, she wanted her own zone back.

With moving their house, and setting up a new café and _everything_ she had forgotten about setting up again, she hadn't had a lot of time to breathe. Grisha had been gone for three weeks, doing a case in South-America, which he, of course, couldn't help, but Dee had cursed Hetty for having to send him away. Not one to sweat the little things, this was, for once, feeling like she'd bitten of more than she could chew. Thankfully, Garrison had offered to do the packing in their old home, which took something off her plate. There were times Dee hated her 'having-to-be-in-control' persona. She wanted her easygoing self back.

Pulling up to the curb, she couldn't help but smile. It was starting to feel like home. Not seeing Grisha's car, the first thing she did was check the guesthouse. Garrison's house. It was as impeccable as she had left it the day before. Heaving a sigh in relief, Dee went on to the main house. They had yet to tackle the garden, but if there was one thing Dee couldn't be bothered with yet, it was the garden. There would be plenty of time once they were actually living here.

The main house was close to being finished. A handyman was fixing up the last of the list she had given him and the painter only had the downstairs office left to do. For a moment, she reveled in the quiet. Then she heard voices and she went to open the door.

Grisha winked at her. "He's telling me it's too big for the two of us."

"It's perfect," Dee countered. "Come on, Grisha will give you the grand tour, while I try and answer this phone call." She made a face at her ringing phone. "Deja Barrow."

Grisha took his father through the house. "I'll admit it's not tiny, but it's not that huge either."

Garrison looked around and decided that he liked it. It had a different feel to it than their current house, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this might suit them better. "How many bedrooms?"

"Three." Grisha pointed passed the kitchen. "Master bedroom up there, with an en-suite bath, then another down the hall there, and one downstairs, which Dee is going to use as an office."

Dee joined them when Grisha was showing him where the outdoor kitchen was planned. "Well? What do you think?"

"I like it," Garrison decided. "It fits."

"Right?" As exhausted as she was, Deja was still excited that they were finally going to move.

Grisha nodded to the other side of the garden. "There's one last thing we have to show you."

Garrison had noticed the little space, but hadn't commented on it. It was a sweet, little place and he wondered what they were going to do with it. Grisha opened the door; Dee stayed a few steps behind.

Looking around, Garrison admired the space. It was big enough, completely sefl-sufficient. A person could easily live here. He had looked at apartments but they had all looked lifeless. If he could find something with the soul of this…

"Go check out the bed- and bathroom, too," Grisha encouraged him.

Slowly, Garrison circled the place. In the meantime, Grisha was talking him through renovations. "The kitchen has been replaced, it's brand new and the bathroom has been updated. New showerhead, new toilet, part new tiling. Heating and air-conditioning has been double-checked. What do you think?"

"It's wonderful." The answer came out tentvely and Dee pushed Grisha against his shoulder.

"Come on, babe, tell him."

Grisha cleared his throat. "Well, Dee and I were thinking… We have this whole different house now, and where we're standing now… It's all extra. We were wondering if you'd like to live here."

Deja watched a range of emotions cross Garrison's face and she felt for him. Obviously, he hadn't expected this at all. "What do you think? We'll have to get you some furniture, of course, but other than that, it's all ready to move into."

He gulped and looked at his son. "Are you sure?"

Grisha nodded. "Haven't been more sure of anything in my life." He wrapped an arm around Dee's waist. "Well, almost."

Garrison circled around, then faced them again. "I'd be honored."


	51. Chapter 51

Hi, guys! Hope you're still out there reading and reviewing. It's not as long as I normally write, but at least it's another start. Hope you enjoy!

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Dee looked around their newly furnished living room as Grisha closed the door behind the last of their moving crew. "Thanks for coming Deekses!" she threw over her shoulder. "See you soon!"

Grisha grinned at her. "We did a lot today."

"We did."

He came walking in her direction and wrapped her in a hug. "Are you glad it's all done?"

"Beyond relieved. At least one major thing to check off my list." She held tight. "Now I can finally go and set a date to open the cafe, and not worry about the house, because the house is all done."

"I'm sorry I wasn't around much," Grisha mumbled in her hair. "I know you've been running around like a mad woman to get everything done in time. I wish I would've been around to help you out."

Shrugging, Dee lifted her up her face to his. "It's all right. Your dad's been a great help. He packed our house, and in between me meeting with Jess, and having people running around here, and moving, we even managed to squeeze in time to buy him some new furniture."

"Still." Tucking hair behind her ear he sighed. "I should've been here, though. I wish I could've been here."

"You're here now."

"Everyone was here today. Especially these last five weeks I've been..."

"Running around like a mad man trying to keep us all safe," Dee interrupted. "Babe, it's fine. It's done. We're moved. Almost everything is in place thanks all our amazing friends and family that helped us out today. Let's focus on planning an opening date for Indulge, and set a date for the wedding and zoom in on the positive side of things."

"You still sure you want to marry me?"

She poked his ribs. "I meant it when I said yes."

"I meant it when I asked, so that's good."

Everyone had showed up. Marty and Kensi, Sam and Michelle with Kamran, Jess and Ethan, Eric and Nell. Hetty had brought Tom and pizza around dinner time, and they had spent their first night in the garden. Dee was already looking forward to more nights like these.

"Are you going to miss the old house?" she questioned.

"Maybe a little," Grisha admitted. "I'm grateful for all the memories, and it was a good starting place for putting down roots, but this is a new chapter. And after everything, I want you to feel safe at home. I want to know you're safe at home. And that will always outweigh where we live."

"Okay." She yawned. "I'm going to fill that wonderful tub in our bathroom. You gonna join?"

"In a moment. I want to see how Garrison is doing." He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "But by all means, save some warm water for me. I shouldn't be long."

Grisha watched his father's cottage from a distance. If there was one thing he had never thought would happen, it was that his father would be living this close by. But he was, and Grisha appreciated Dee's efforts in making it happen. The lights were still on and Grisha knocked. "Garrison?"

"Grisha." Garrison opened the door, pleasantly surprised. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just wanted to know if you've settled in."

Opening the door further, Garrison stepped back. "I have."

Stepping into the small house, Grisha let his eyes wander around. He'd seen the furniture his father had picked only briefly when Deeks and Sam had unloaded it from the truck, but he had been busy with other things to pay close enough attention to it. One thing was clear as day, though. He snickered. "Did Dee take you to her favorite shops?"

Garrison laughed too. "Somehow she understood that I wasn't going to buy all new things."

"She has a thing for understanding what we mean." It was sparsely furnished and it reminded Grisha of the way his house had looked for so long. "Are you sure this is all you need?"

His father shrugged. "For now. Maybe when it's dawned that I'm going to stay here for a while, I might add a few things. But for now this is all I wanted."

It was something Grisha only understood too well. "As long as you're happy." Grisha paused. "How did the bathroom turn out? Dee said that there were some problems and it took longer than expected."

"Come see."

After a brief tour of the house, Grisha stopped again by the door. He paused, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I wanted to thank you. For helping Dee out when I was away. It was my responsibility, but I really appreciate the way that you've stepped up and helped her out with moving. Thank you for that."

"It was the least I could do," Garrison softly said.

Grisha shook his head. "No dad, really. She was going crazy trying to juggle three things at once, and taking over the packing of the house was a big deal. So thank you." When it dawned on him what he'd said, the two men looked at each other, trying to gauge reactions. Grisha cleared his throat. "Let's try and spent a bit more time together, okay?"

"You go and spent some time with your fiancée first."

"I will. Hetty has given me a long weekend somewhere, so I'm going to try and block a weekend before she opens the café. But once that's up and running, we should go and catch a game, or something."

"I'd like that."

"Yeah, me too." Grisha gave the place one last glance and opened the door. "Let us know if there's something you're missing? Or if something's not working? Or if you want coffee?"

"I'll be fine. Thank you, Grisha."

"You're welcome."

He found his fiancée, as predicted, in the bathtub, her eyes closed, humming to a slow tune. Leaning against the doorframe, he took her in, not saying a word.

Dee opened an eye. "Are you going to stand there or are you going to come and join me?" Then she noticed his stance and opened her other eye as well. "What is it?"

"I called him dad."

Dee wasn't all that surprised. She'd known it was coming for a while. "Just like that?"

He frowned. "You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not. Not really. You've been brooding over it for a little while."

He chuckled. "Sometimes I think I'm getting more transparent by the day."

"Only with me."

"I'm still not entirely sure he deserves it, though."

"To be called dad?"

"Yeah."

"Then why did you?"

Shrugging, he let his breath out. "I said thank you for helping you while I was away. And he wanted to shrug it off like it was no big deal."

"Was it a big deal?"

"Well, yes. I'm not used to parents helping out." She arched an eyebrow. "Fine, I'm used to Hetty helping out," Grisha relented. "I'm not used to _him_ helping out."

"That's just because he hasn't been around. He's around now."

He still wasn't convinced. "Yeah."

Deja rolled her eyes. "Babe, much as I love you, you have to stop fighting this. He's here. He's around. He's living in our garden for crying out loud. You can't keep punishing him or yourself for everything that's happened in the past. So you've called him dad. That's good. You don't have to do it all the time. Just the fact that you did means there's room to grow closer."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded his head. "I know."

"Good. Now get out of those clothes and come join me in the tub and celebrate the fact that we've moved. Everything else, we'll handle in the morning."

This time, he didn't need convincing.


	52. Chapter 52

And here is another chapter, guys. It looks like the muse is back, which means more updates. ;-)

Thanks for all the follows and favorites. Enjoy!

* * *

"Grisha." Hetty arched an eyebrow. "Did I forget something in the debrief?" The team had arrived from a grueling day in Santa Barbara three hours ago, and after a short debrief she had sent everybody home and went to Tom's house herself. So seeing her senior agent standing in the door opening from the hall to the dining room now, right after dinner, was a surprise.

He shook his head. "No, you covered everything."

Hetty put her napkin down and frowned. "What is it, then? Something wrong?"

Again, he shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong. I just want to clearilfy something."

"And that something couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"It could, but I'd rather not." His eyes traveled to Tom. "Again, I'm sorry for intruding."

"Don't be. Obviously, it's something important if you've come all this way. Take a seat. Have you eaten? You want something to drink?"

"I have, and no, thank you." He pulled out a chair and sat down.

Tom glanced at Hetty. "Do you two want some privacy?"

"No, you can stay." Grisha took a deep breath. "How long until your retirement, Hetty?"

Although his question threw her for a loop, she didn't show it. Instead, she smiled and bowed her head. "How long have you known?"

"Not long. It's little things; I doubt the others know. It's real this time?"

"It is. Like you, I've found that there is more to life than work." Her smile grew wider as she looked at Tom. "My resignation won't go into effect until the end of February, so you'll have time to get used to it."

"Mmm." Grisha swallowed. "How is your file on potential other agents?"

"That depends. Am I going to need it or my successor?"

"I'm thinking you are."

"For who?"

"Me." He chuckled. "But you know that. You have for a long time."

"Why now, though?"

"It's time. That standoff today was brutal, we barely had time to take cover and I know Nell got off with a graze, and this time it was her arm, Hetty, but it could've been much worse… The only thing that kept going through my head was that I wanted to make it back home. I have done this for a long time, Hetty. It's time someone else does, now."

"What made you decide today, though? You've been in more than one brutal standoff in the last year."

"We half decided on a date yesterday. I want to make it to my own wedding without having to wonder if I'm going to get shot between now and then."

She understood. "I know. And you deserve no less." She reached for her wine glass and took a sip. "Have you decided on what you want to do?"

"Not yet. I think I'll help Dee with getting Indulge on its feet and then we'll see. I'm not in a rush to find something else."

"You deserve some downtime." She paused for a moment, wondering if she needed to tell him. Then again, he was her team leader, so he needed to know. "Mr. and Mrs. Deeks have handed in their resignations as well."

Grisha nodded. "I know. They came to the house two nights ago." He leaned back

in his chair. "It will be a completely different team. And maybe that's a good thing. I know it's a good thing for them to be done with this, start a family. They'd been trying to decide for a long time."

"So they said." Hetty sighed. "Things have shifted. I get that. There is more in life than work. I get that, too. And you have half your lives still ahead of you, so I do understand that you want to make something of it. You should. But Director Vance is going to question me on why we're all deciding this at the same moment."

"Life has shifted. If it wasn't for Deja, I'd still be doing this job for the next ten years, or until it would've gotten me killed. But Dee's here, and I want to give her a peaceful, quiet life, Hetty. I don't want to look over my shoulder every time we leave the house or have Eric and Nell fine tune the alarm system every three months because it's outdated again. We're entitled to a little peace and quiet."

"Agreed. Have you written your letter of resignation yet?"

"It'll be on your desk first thing in the morning."

She eyed him. "Are you excited? To start this completely different chapter in your life?"

He countered. "Are you?"

The glimmer in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. "I am. But I worry for the new team of Special Operations as well. They have huge shoes to fill."

"And they'll do just fine. Whoever becomes their manager will have their own style and if they follow all the rules we do, most of the time, they'll be fine. They just need to find their own dynamic."

Hetty took in his calm posture. "You're not going to miss the action? The shooting and the interrogating witnesses and suspects? The going undercover?"

"I'm happy being me, Hetty. I suspect it's going to be enough. Besides, don't you think the new generation deserves a chance to prove themselves?"

As he'd told Dee that afternoon in the park, back in London, there was a time he was going to be done. And having the Deekses telling him they were going to resign and do something else, and that shooting that took more out of him than he wanted to admit, and all of it together: moving, having his father close, getting married, wanting to start a family… He didn't want the responsibility of keeping the world safe anymore. He wanted to the responsibility of raising and providing for his family.

"Perhaps. I'm going to let someone else deal with that. I've done enough, keeping all of you in line for the last eight years."

"You have." Grisha turned to Tom. "And you? You going to make an honest woman out of her?"

Tom grinned. "She won't let me. It's not that I haven't asked."

"I'm sure."

"But, to be honest, it will be nice to have more time together. Do more things that we like, without operations interfering and work demanding things. But it was her decision, and the only thing I can do is support her."

"Thanks for looking after her." He rolled his eyes at Hetty as she opened her mouth to protest. "I know you are more than capable to look after yourself. I'm still glad he's going to be around. Let's keep him, okay? I like him."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I do, too." Then she remembered something else. "I know we haven't really discussed it since you've moved… How are things with Garrison?"

"They're better. It's still strange to have him that close by, but we've bridged some gaps and we're trying to get along. It's not always easy, but we're trying to get to know each other again. And we have good days and bad days. Dee keeps reminding me it takes time."

"Deja is smart like that."

"Among other things." He paused, plucking non-existing lint of his shirt. "You're not disappointed that we're all quitting on you?"

"Why in the world would you think that?"

"Because you've put all this time and energy in us, training us, keeping us where Washington couldn't get to us, even when they wanted to. And we're repaying you by leaving."

"You've repaid me by doing your jobs all this time, and keeping each other safe." She patted his arm. "Don't for a moment think you're disappointing me for wanting a life, Grisha. Please. I'm proud of all the things you've done and accomplished. But I'm most proud of the fact that you've finally got enough guts to admit that you want a life outside of work. And you've found her all on your own."

"I did, didn't I?"

The playful swat he received made his grin even wider. "So, no, not disappointed. Go have a life. Enjoy having a life. God knows I've waited longer than I should have."

"Thanks, Hetty."

Again, Hetty took a sip of her wine. And something clicked. "She doesn't know you're here, does she?"

He had the decency to look caught. "She doesn't. It will be my Christmas present. I'll leave the moment there's another team leader."

"You said something about having set a date. How do you half set a date?"

"She wants to have a big Christmas dinner with all of us at Indulge, then open the second of January. We're not getting married until the spring, because she wants Indulge at its feet before closing it for an entire weekend."

"Which is a very smart thing to consider."

"It is."

Hetty laughed. "You really can't wait to marry her."

"I really can't."

The excited grin on his face made the tears well up in her eyes. He'd found his place in the world. He had found his place in the world all by himself, and he was making decisions to secure that place. She couldn't be prouder if she tried.

* * *

I've doubted about letting Deeks and Kensi retire basically during the same timeframe. But, as they're already married in this universe, and so ready to start a family, I figured it would make sense. Let me know if it does. As for Hetty, she needs to retire for real at some point, this somehow just fit. ;-)


	53. Chapter 53

A quick update before the new year. I should've posted it last weekend, because that would've been perfect timing, but then again, nothing in my life ever is. ;-) Hope you enjoy anyway and see you all next year. :-)

Writer200: Thank you! It's the only way I know how to, but I'm glad that it sets me apart from anyone else. ;-)

* * *

"How about this one?" Deja nodded to a tree.

Grisha shrugged. "A bit big, maybe?"

"Okay, so something smaller." She looked around, then back at him. "Why is this so hard?"

"Picking a Christmas tree? I don't know." They had been at the patch for almost forty-five minutes and were no nearer to picking a tree then when they were when they arrived. Knowing she was becoming frustrated, he squeezed her shoulder. "It's just a Christmas tree, Dee. Pick one you like that's not too big." Or heavy, as he was the one had to carry it to the first floor.

"It's not just any Christmas tree," she said. "It's a first. First _ever_ for you, first for us, together, first for us in our new house… It's an important Christmas tree."

Smiling, he wrapped her in his arms. "Babe, you're overthinking this. This Christmas isn't going to be extra special because of the tree. It's going to be special because it's us, in our house, making new traditions and memories. So pick a tree."

Poking his ribs, Dee rolled her eyes. "I just want it to be perfect."

"It already is. I have you. You're here." He pressed a kiss to her lips. "Go. Pick one."

"Fine." Letting go, she turned around.

Finally, somewhere in the middle of a tree maze Grisha had long lost track of, she found the perfect one. "Found it!" he heard somewhere behind him.

Half an hour later, the tree was strapped to the roof of his Merc and he found that they weren't done yet. "What do you mean, ornaments?"

"What were you going to do with the tree, then? Just put the tree in the living room and not make it festive?"

He honestly hadn't thought it through. They, or Dee, rather, had decided that it needed to become Christmas in their house. She'd started two days after Thanksgiving, saying that they needed to get a tree and lights. He'd been able to postpone it for another two weeks, because of the move and everything, but here he was. Picking a tree had been an ordeal, and now they had to get lights and ornaments? He was ill-prepared for all this holiday cheer.

Shifting into a different gear, he pulled out of their parking space. "Okay. So where do we go?"

Deja dragged him to a department store first, for lights, that he felt were way too many. Then her favorite boutique shops, both vintage and new. After the third, he stopped her. "Hold on. Why so many? Are you sure we don't have enough already?"

She frowned. "It's only been four shops. We've bought lights and maybe ten ornaments total." She tilted her head to one side. "We need to start from scratch here. Everything I had collected is gone, remember? We need at least another ten ornaments, some angel hair and candles. Everything else we can collect over the next five years."

She was right. He hadn't realized. He had expected her to have at least a box of something stashed away somewhere, but her whole apartment got destroyed in the explosion. Including her Christmas decorations. He was used to them living together at their house that sometimes he forgot that this last summer she still had her own apartment. "You're right. I'm sorry. Still new to all this holiday cheer."

"I know." Dee took his arm and nodded to a little store up ahead. "Anthea has the best handmade ornaments. Maybe you'll find something you like, too."

Anthea was an exuberant twenty-something that greeted Deja with a high-pitched squeal and a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"Likewise," Deja agreed. After exchanging pleasantries, Dee came down to business. "So, what have you got this year? We're starting over, so I want some special ones."

Anthea took her through the shop, pointing out special ornaments and baubles. Grisha wandered around, not looking for anything in particular. Admittedly, all the ornaments were intricate and beautifully handcrafted. He got why Dee liked them so much, with her particular taste. Then his eyes caught a glimmer in the window. Made in different colors of stained glass were delicate hearts. Smaller in bigger ones, to create a 3d effect, it stunningly caught the light. Speaking of new traditions. "Dee?"

"Mmm…?"

"I want four of those."

That made her look up, following his gaze. "Why four specifically?"

Grisha swallowed. "One for mom, Amy, Lindy and Ramiro."

The corners of her mouth pulled up as she walked over to admire the ornaments from up close. "Good call," she murmured, squeezing his hand. "They're gorgeous."

Later that afternoon, when Dee looked up from the floor she was sitting on, having made other decorations, she grinned at their decorated tree. "What do you think?"

He had to admit that it made for something special, a decorated tree in the living room. Dee had added jarred floating candles in the window sills and on the tables with some sort of greenery and huge vases with colored baubles. It was extraordinary without being over the top.

"It's better than I thought it would be."

"I'll take it." She winked. "Wait until there are gifts under the tree."

That brought him to a different topic. "Babe?"

The tone of his voice made that she stopped collecting boxes and paper and focused all her attention on him. "What is it?" She patted the floor next to her. "Come sit."

"I was thinking…" Not sure how to broach the subject, he shrugged. "Not sure how to ask this." Shifting nervously, he swallowed. "Uhm… Garrison is here for the first time. Hetty and Tom are here. Which means my family is here."

Not sure where he wanted to go with his train of thought, Dee nodded encouragingly. "Yes…"

"Would it be okay if we do Christmas morning with the two of us, open the most important gifts and that I invite Garrison and Hetty and Tom later? We'll see everyone later for dinner, but I'd like to have them here. If that's okay with you."

She didn't even have to think. "Of course that's okay with me. I'm surprised it took you all this time to ask."

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't know how to ask without making you feel… I don't know, alone."

She mimicked his eye roll. "I have you. And your family. How in the world is that going to make me feel alone? Christmas morning with the two of us will be perfect, and then the rest of your family can all come and crowd the place and we'll have dinner at Indulge. I can't think of a better Christmas." Shaking her head, she pressed a kiss on his cheek. "You're making your own traditions. That's good. Actually, that's great. I'm proud of you."

"Sure."

"I am," Deja insisted. "Last year you were afraid to 'intrude' on Kensi and Marty's party, even with an invitation, and this year you're choosing your own ornaments and the way you want to celebrate. And with whom. That's massive improvement in my book."

"Well, a lot has changed this past year. And like I mentioned at Thanksgiving, there is a lot to be thankful for." He gathered her close. "Like a certain person saying yes to spending the rest of her life with me, and good friends, and the fact that Garrison is here. And next year will be different, but great just the same."

"It will be," Dee agreed. She took one last look around before she got up to pile boxes and clean up paper. "It's beginning to look like Christmas in here."

Grisha couldn't help but feel the same. Christmas was coming and it wasn't something to dread anymore.


	54. Chapter 54

Here is the next chapter. Doing research, working on other stories and being overall busy doesn't seem to mix. Thanks to mdf717 for Grisha's present from Dee, it was brilliant. :-)

To all of you who have decided to follow, review and favorite this story, thank you. It means the world.

Garrison's present is a last minute addition, which I found going over my notes for this story. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Christmas morning came and Grisha sneaked out of bed early to prepare breakfast. He hadn't felt this excited for Christmas morning in… ever. And he couldn't wait to show Dee his gift. So, half an hour later, he walked up the few steps to their bedroom, carefully balancing a tray with fruit, tea and toast. Setting it on the bedside table, he carefully sank down next to her on the bed, not really wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber. Pushing hair out of her face, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Dee?"

Oh, he got that she wasn't awake yet. She had, together with Jess, worked on prepping Christmas dinner late into last night. But he was ready to open presents. He tried again. "Dee? Time to wake up, Christmas morning has arrived…"

It made her stir, and she leisurely stretched limbs and blinked her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven thirty."

She grinned and turned her head to him, fully opening her eyes now. "That is really early on a Christmas morning, Grisha."

"I know." He pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I'm not asking you to get out of bed, yet. I've brought you breakfast."

"In bed? You spoil me."

"That's my job."

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Dee pushed herself to a sitting position and yawned. "Okay, I'm up."

Grisha pulled the tray closer and handed her tea. "Fruit first? Or toast?"

"Toast, please, when it's still warm. Have you brought marmalade?"

"No, but I'll go get it." In under a minute he was back and settled next to her. "Are you excited?"

"For Christmas? Always." Her smile grew wider as she looked at him. "I don't have to ask you, do I? You're always up early, but this is weekend early, even for you."

"I know." He popped a piece of fruit into his mouth. "First time that I'm excited for Christmas morning in ever. Sorry."

Taking a bite of her toast, she shook her head. "Don't be. It's great to see you so excited."

They finished breakfast in relative silence, Dee trying to wake up after a rather short night. When the food had been gone, and she was slowly sipping a cup of tea, he returned with her present. "I know we said we weren't going to do presents this year, but there is something that I want to give you anyway."

Surprise etched her fact as she took the roll from him. "You don't think you've given me enough, this past year?" Slowly, she untied the ribbon and unrolled the documents, scanning through them. Her eyes grew wide and she looked up at him. "You didn't."

"I did." It sounded calmer than he felt.

"You've handed in your resignation? Why?"

"Because it's time."

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. "Why?" she asked again. "I know you told me that you were going to be done with it, at some point… But, this is…"

"Earlier than you expected?"

"Yeah."

"Well…" He shifted his position. "That last case where Nell got hurt put some things in perspective for me. I've been doing this for twenty years, Dee, and I'm getting older. If we're going to do this whole marriage and kids thing, you deserve to have me home at a decent hour and not worry about me returning hurt, if at all."

"That's not all."

Didn't he know it. "It's time somebody else takes responsibility for the safety of the world. I've done it long enough. Garrison is here, Hetty is settling down, retiring, I just want the responsibility for my family. Besides, as you know, Marty and Kensi are getting out as well. It'll be good for the Team of Special Operations to start anew. They'll have Sam's experience to follow. It just won't be my responsibility anymore."

Studying him, she tilted her head. "And you're good with that?"

"I'm perfectly happy with that. No more looking over our shoulders, we won't have to update the alarm system every three months, we get to live a quiet, peaceful life. At least until the Deekses ask us to baby sit."

Dee chuckled. "Have you thought about what you want to do?"

"Not yet. I'll help you get Indulge back on its feet, plan a wedding, then we'll see."

"You're going to plan our wedding?"

"Why not?" he shrugged. "Once we finally settle on a date, when there's surely something to plan."

"I want that in paper, somewhere. I'll just hand it over to you, and just worry about my dress and show up."

Pulling her close, he snickered. "Done."

Leaning in, she pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth. "Thank you," she murmured. "I bet letting go of your job was not easy."

"Honestly, it's one of the easiest decisions I've ever made," he confessed. "It's not effective immediately: I've given Hetty time to find a new team leader before I disappear, and she retires as well."

"You're all going to have a different life."

"We are."

"So maybe my present was perfect timing after all." Reaching over, she handed him a rectangle box, which, as he took it from her, felt heavier than he had expected.

He stuck his tongue out. "We weren't going to do presents."

"You were the first one to break that rule," she pointed out. "Open it."

It was a mason jar filled with post it notes. There was no label. Frowning, he looked up at her. "Are you going to keep me guessing?"

"Take one."

Screwing the top off, he took a post it. "The Getty Center."

"Have you ever been?" she asked.

"No," he had to admit. "Then again, I've never had the time to plan tourist, so there are a lot of things I haven't seen."

"Then it's a good thing that I've filled this jar with touristy date ideas. The Getty, Knott's Berry Farm, the Queen Mary, the Zoo… We're going to do all dumb touristy things as soon as you're allowed out in the open."

It already had him excited. "I like that."

Later that night, after dinner, Garrison took him aside. "Grisha, there is one final thing I want to give you."

Grisha set his beer aside on the bar, brows knit in confusion. "We weren't doing presents."

Garrison waved him off. "We weren't. I know that. But you've given me the house this last year, and you've allowed me to be here, to be part of your life… I've kept this in a safe place, but I feel that you should have it."

Taking the present from his father, Grisha carefully tore the paper off. When the actual present came in sight, he closed his eyes, not prepared for the onslaught of emotions. "Where… What…"

Garrison swallowed. "This is the last surviving picture of the four of us," he softly said in Russian. "It's the only one I could save. I would've given it to you this afternoon, but it was not ready." He paused. "She would be so proud of you, Grisha. _I_ am so proud of you. Merry Christmas."

The tears he wanted to swallow came anyway as he trailed the photo with his fingers. "You don't know what this means to me," he choked. His eyes found his fiancée without effort, and his hand reached for her as she approached, concern imprinted on her beautiful features.

"What is it?" she whispered. Silently, he showed her and immediately, her face softened. "Oh…"

Grisha handed her the picture and wrapped his father in a tight hug. "спасибо папе. спасибо папе."


	55. Chapter 55

Hi, guys!

So, an update on the progress of this story. I wrote this chapter in less than an hour, because somehow it flowed, and I hope it comes across the right way. Secondly, there are exactly five chapters left in my outline. That can be a good thing, because yeey, another five chapters. Or a say thing, because, oh no, only five chapters left. Either way, it is what it is. Just wanted to warn you up front.

Thanks for the reviews and follows and enjoy!

* * *

He'd been putting off telling Sam. For some reason his partner was the last to know about the important things these days. Dee was first, then Hetty and Kensi and Marty, and finally Sam. Callen didn't mind, not really, it just was a far cry from two years before. Then again, a lot had happened it two years.

After another grueling day with chasing suspects and being locked up in the boat shed for the better part of fourteen hours, Callen exhaled. The cases seemed to get worse, the longer he stayed. When he looked at Deeks and Kensi, he saw that they thought the same. It was time to let go. This world appeared to get crazier with every day that passed.

So at the end of another week, he took Sam for drinks. Noticing that Callen had chosen a rather quiet booth in a far corner, Sam raised an eyebrow. "Is this going to be a serious conversation?" he asked, as he put his drink down.

Callen cleared his throat. "Maybe."

"What's on your mind? Something I did?"

"Not this time."

"Then what?" Sam wasn't dumb; he had noticed the looks between the three teammates after a long day. He knew Deeks and Kensi were counting down the days until they could go home and figure out what to do after law enforcement. Part of him already knew they had something lined up.

Knowing that he had to come out and say it at one point or another, Callen took a deep breath. "Hetty is looking around for a new team leader," he said. "Aside from the replacements for Deeks and Kensi."

Sam frowned. "Why? She not impressed with your performance anymore?"

"No, my last fit rep was stellar." He shook his head. "It's because I asked her to."

"Why?" Again, that same question.

He looked up, meeting his partner's eyes. "Because I'm going to retire, too."

Sam was silent for a moment, studying his face. "Aha." He cleared his throat, playing with his drink. "What did she say?"

"To me retiring?"

"To all of it changing?"

"You know Hetty; she's always prepared for anything. I think she saw it coming."

Nodding, his partner pursed his lips. "Why are you retiring? I know why Deeks and Kensi are resigning, and I think I can guess your reasons, but I'd rather you tell me."

Having expected this, Callen smiled. "Because Dee happened," he softly but firmly, said. "And because for the first time in my life, I fit in somewhere that has nothing to do with my skills as an operative. I fit in because I'm me. With all my baggage. So that's one."

"And two?"

"Two is because it's time someone else takes responsibility for the safety of the world. I've tried to keep everyone safe for twenty years, Sam. It's time to take care of my family, now. Somebody else can take over the world."

His partner smirked. "The things we do for family."

"You think I'm wrong?" Callen frowned.

"No, no I don't think you're wrong," Sam quickly deflated. "I don't you're wrong at all. And I get it, too. You finally have your family in one place. _You_ of all people, are getting married. But who's going to keep your kids safe? Have you thought about that?"

"I have. I don't doubt my kids will be safe, Sam. I'm sure whoever is next in that office will do their utmost to keep all of us safe, like we've done for the past ten years. But I want the walk down the aisle, and the honeymoon, and the excitement over a positive pregnancy test, the sleepless nights and first steps… I want all that without having to look over my shoulder or going out the door in the morning, not knowing if or how I'm going to come through the door at night. I don't think that's fair to Dee or to any of the kids we'll have. Not even for the greater good."

Sam regarded him for a long time, not saying anything. "Good for you."

It took Callen by surprise. "Yeah?"

"You love her," Sam admitted. "And maybe a part of me is jealous. Because you're able to let go control. And I'm the squared away Navy SEAL who won't. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps Deeks and Kensi are right too. But this is the only way I know how to keep _my_ family safe. And yes, I do it for the greater good, too."

"I'm not judging you. But this is what I have to do."

"I know." Sam swallowed his drink. "What did Dee say?"

"Believe it or not, she didn't believe it. But she's happy. It'll give us more time together as I figure out what to do."

"You don't have another job lined up?"

"Nope. I'm going to play it by ear, get Indulge set up with her, plan the wedding. Just take it easy for a little while. We'll see what happens. I want something with less irregular hours and a lower mortality rate. We'll see what comes across."

"You're going to play it by ear? You really think you can do that?"

Callen shrugged. "The old me with his day-to-day mentally is still in there, somewhere. Just that I have Dee now, doesn't mean I don't still have that."

"I bet." Sam shook his head, laughing. "You're finally retiring, Callen. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Bet you thought that I'd succumb to a bullet eventually?"

"Either that or an explosion somewhere. We have enough enemies who would love to see us dead."

"Most of them behind bars, thankfully."

Sam raised his glass. "Well, here's to you and Dee. To Hetty finding a good replacement for you, and to happy endings. Because if there is someone who deserves one, it's you."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Don't thank me yet," Sam warned. "The first few weeks you'll have to listen me whine about the new team. After that, we'll go back to being just friends instead of partners. Cause we're still going to be friends, right?"

"Always."


	56. Chapter 56

I hope I have responded to all your reviews for the last chapter; if I haven't, forgive me, life's been a bit hectic. I'm currently writing two stories at the same time (been ages since I've done that, and now I know exactly why!), and for some reason this one was a tough one to get right. Hope I've done it justice. Let me know what you think! :-)

* * *

"Dad, you in?"

Garrison looked from his paper at the sound of his son's voice. "It's open."

The door opened and Grisha stuck his head in. "There you are. Morning."

"Good morning." He put the paper down. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks." Grisha sat down next to his father at the kitchen table.

Noticing the tension in his shoulders and the way his blue eyes had clouded over, Garrison raised an eyebrow at him. "Something on your mind, Grisha?" Garrison liked to think they had grown closer since Christmas, but every now and then he caught Grisha being cautious. Not that he could blame him. They had missed each other for forty years. There was no way they could bridge that gap in a few months.

Grisha opened his mouth, closed it again and shook his head. "It's silly." He'd come to ask his father for more answers, but somehow it seemed childish now.

Garrison couldn't be discouraged. "Can't be that bad. What is it?"

"Where did you and Mom get married?"

Ah, he wanted more pieces of the puzzle. Garrison folded the paper back in half and thought. "We got married in front of a befriended judge, extremely early on a Monday morning, with two friends as witnesses. I doubt you'd find a paper trail, let alone the picture we had made." He'd become indifferent to the evidence of his life, having lost so many things. He held his memories tight. "The middle of winter, too, so it was cold. And since we couldn't afford anything else, I got married in my uniform and your mother wore a dress she had borrowed from a friend." He chuckled at the memory. "We were freezing but _so_ happy."

Grisha smiled. "No regrets?"

"About our wedding day? No, none. Why?"

"Just wondering." With the preparations of his own wedding underway, Grisha had found himself curious about the way his parents had pledged their eternal love to one another.

"Wondering whether or not I would've like to give her an extravaganza? Of course I would have, but at that time, it was not the time or place to do that. And don't forget, she was an operative, I was a KGB Major… We'd kept our entire relationship pretty much a secret until then. Getting married, starting a family right under everybody's noses could prove lethal. We did it anyway. But, if she had wanted an extravaganza, I would have found a way to make it work. She didn't."

"Yeah."

"Are you worried about what Deja might want?"

He smiled sheepishly at his father. "Am I such an open book?"

"You're getting there," Garrison teased. "Not to everyone. Are you worried?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "I'm only going to do this once. I want it to be perfect."

Garrison took a sip of his coffee and put the cup back down. "It will be. There's a reason she put you in charge. That means she trusts you. She wouldn't have done it otherwise. Have you figured something out yet?"

"I have." Grisha took a breath. "Actually, are you busy, today?"

"I was going to catch up on some reading, but if you have a better plan, I'm all ears." It only registeren now that Grisha was home on a Tuesday. "What _are_ you doing home, anyway?"

His son shrugged. "I have a day off to get some of that wedding stuff handled. Tell you in the car? I have some ideas and we have a date, so that's taken care of."

"Give me ten minutes to clean up here?"

"I need to get my notes." He rolled his eyes, his smile spreading from ear to ear. "At risk of sounding like a groomzilla, I have notes."

Garrison laughed, pushing his chair back to stand up. "Isn't that a good thing? What date have you settled on?"

"The courthouse had a cancelation. First weekend of May."

Ten minutes later they were on their way, but it wasn't until Grisha had steered in the direction of the high way, Garrison realized they weren't staying in LA. "Where are we going?"

"Santa Barbara."

"Van Nuys courthouse not good enough?"

"It crossed my mind," Grisha affirmed. "But when you see the Santa Barbara courthouse, you'll understand why Van Nuys didn't stand a chance. Besides, Tom, of course, owns a house, because his gallery is there. Big enough for all of us to stay the weekend. And he offered, so we're touring it today to see if I can take him up on it."

"You haven't seen it?"

"Pictures. Not the house itself. Would be great to have the party there, a rehearsal dinner. Make a weekend out of it."

Garrison studied his son from the passenger's seat. He had it all organized. Knew what he wanted. He was doing this. Choosing to have a life with her, rather than work the job. It was a choice Garrison secretly admired him for; a part of him wished he could've made the same decision back in the day. Maybe their family would've been complete, now, if he had. Grisha's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"Are you going to bring a date?"

"A date? To your wedding? Why would you think that?"

"Oh, come on, Dad. I might almost be retired, but don't give up on me yet. You really didn't think we wouldn't see the car in front of your place? You live in our backyard."

"Maybe I want to keep her to myself a little longer," Garrison shot back. "I believe you did the same with Deja?"

"Touch **é**." Grisha chuckled. "Fine. Let me know if you do, okay? We'd like to meet her, too. Your timetable."

"Thank you." He appreciated that. "It's all a bit new, still. But I like her. It's nice to have that sort of companionship back." He changed the topic back. "A wedding weekend, huh?"

"Depending on a lot of things. The ideas are still a bit rough, but they're here." He'd been meticulous in his planning so far. He was on the phone with Nanna and Maria every few days to talk things through. He had a leather binder with notes, sketches and samples. Dare he admit it, he even had a Pinterest board. He was worse than Kensi had been. "If the house plans out, we'll have a wedding weekend. Rehearsal, dinner. Brunch the next day, ceremony at the courthouse, as well as pictures and then dinner and a party back at the house. Topped off by a post-wedding breakfast on Sunday morning before we leave for our honeymoon."

"You're going all out."

"Dee's not for things, Dee's for memories. So let's give her a wedding she'll remember."

Garrison nodded. "And your honeymoon?"

"Haven't decided yet. I have some ideas lined up, but nothing concrete yet."

"Let me know when you do."

The tone of his father's voice took him by surprise. "Why?"

"Because I'd like your honeymoon to be my wedding present."

"Dad…"

Before he could protest further, Garrison held his hand up. "Like you said, Deja's not for things. She's for memories. You two have everything you need. Let me give you something you don't need but want, okay?"

Grisha was touched. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this, we're more than capable…"

"Don't make me beg for the honor, Grisha." The tone of his voice made more than clear how much he wanted to do this for them. "Please?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Grisha nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Garrison turned his gaze back ahead. "Now tell me about what else you have planned."


	57. Chapter 57

So, this is the last part of this story. I know I haven't updated it in ages, but I wanted to finish it nonetheless. The chapters I had planned in between didn't work out the way I thought they would, so there is only the episode left. I think it ties everything together with a bow.

Thank you to everyone who has followed this story; reviewed, left notes, offered encouragement. It meant the world, and I'm really happy that you've all enjoyed this figment of my imagination.

Enjoy!

* * *

The morning of their wedding, the sun cast a golden light, as if to celebrate with them. Grisha let his eyes wander around the brunch table, and threw his arm around Dee's shoulders. They had made it this far. This would be the first day of their beginning. Life was about to change in the best way possible.

Both Nanna and Abuela had made it in one piece, accompanied by Alistair and Maria. Dee had sent notes to everyone else, explaining that they wanted something simple, but that they'd plan a trip to see both families as soon as they were back from their honeymoon.

Dee had been ecstatic to see what he'd picked for their wedding, little as she knew. Her dress would be a surprise to him, as Hetty had taken it home with her, just to make sure they at least kept one tradition. Their rehearsal dinner had gone off without a hitch, and somehow, finally being here, had made everything more real. Tangible. They were getting _married._

His soon-to-be-wife winked and dove into a conversation with Kensi on her other side. Laughter filled his ears, and although he had expected to be anything but nervous for this day, he felt the jitters in his stomach.

A week ago he had said goodbye to what had been his workplace and his team for the past ten years. The new team was in place; he had no doubt that they would put their job before anything else. He had worked with Agents Greyson, Heughan and Miller for two weeks, and he was certain they were up to the task.

All of it felt right. He had no job lined up, he was going to help out at the café and see what happened. The only assurance he needed was that Dee would stay by his side; everything else would work out. She had been waiting for him, leaning against their car, face tilted up to the sun, as he emerged from the building for a last time. His forever had a name and it was hers. It was all he needed to know.

Hetty had left three weeks before, to take time to settle and make arrangements for her trip with Tom. They would leave tomorrow, after brunch. She looked happy and content, sitting near the head of the large table Tom had put in the garden just so they could all sit together, chatting with his father. One Monday morning, she had let Tom make an honest woman out of her. Not even Grisha and Deja knew until after the fact. He hadn't expected anything else.

Garrison had brought a date after all. He had introduced them to Katarina on a Sunday morning over coffee in their yard. Grisha was happy for him. They had more in common than their Russian heritage, and his father, like Hetty, looked happy and content. There was nothing more he could ask for.

Two hours later, he slipped into the jacket of the navy three-piece Hetty had helped him pick out and looked at himself in the mirror. His nervousness seemed to get worse by the minute. Hetty smoothed his lapel after she pinned his boutonniere on. "Nerves?"

Wordlessly, he nodded.

She smiled. "Good." She cocked her head and her eyes twinkled. "Don't worry. Deep breaths. You'll be fine."

Deeks peeked his head in and grinned. "Breathe, brother. Turning a bit blue, there." He patted his shoulder. "Kensi tells me she's gorgeous and happy and overly excited."

And she was. Gorgeous and happy and overly excited as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. Her smile was blinding, and the off-the-shoulder dress she was wearing was as much her, as the flower crown in her hair. He bit down on his emotions, only barely believing that she was about to be his for the rest of their lives. Two tears rolled down his cheek anyway. She brushed them away with the back of her hand and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The ceremony was short and simple. To love, to cherish, to protect until death would do them part. His voice caught when he said his vows, and he swallowed more tears. He had not expected to be as emotional as he was, but Deja, apparently, was prepared for anything. Rings were exchanged, and although he had worn a wedding ring before, this felt different. Permanent. Lasting. Then he was finally allowed to kiss her, and he did so with everything he had.

Laughter, cheers and applause erupted and followed them as they made it back down the aisle. Married. They were really married.

They stole a quiet moment in the car, back to the villa. He complimented her dress and wormed himself out of his jacket. All nerves were gone and all he wanted was to hold her and tell himself they had made it.

The afternoon was another whirlwind of emotions, as the photo session turned into the cocktail hour, turned into dinner and was followed up with heartfelt speeches. Everybody seemed to have something on their mind that they wanted to share. Things he'd assumed were meaningless turned out to actually be meaning _ful_ to someone else.

At his quiet accusation that his wife (his _wife_ ) was nowhere as emotional, her reply came that she'd known his worth and his value all along. He'd just never let himself see it. She handed him a tissue and kissed his cheek, settling in the crook of his arm to listen to their friends and family. Eventually, he caught a tear rolling down her cheek too, and smiled to himself.

His father presented them with their honeymoon. Grisha had decided that it could be a surprise, knowing that his father would no doubt confer with Hetty. Tuscany it was. Two weeks of sunshine, good food, good wine and better company.

During their first dance as husband and wife, she asked him if he was okay. Gathering her closer still, he nodded into her hair. Never better. Life was great.

The party lasted into the early hours of the morning, but somewhere, somehow, they ended up on a sunbed by the pool. He was sitting with one leg on either side; his sleeves rolled up, leaning toward his wife. Dee had gathered up her skirts, leaning with her back against the sunbed, one foot hanging in the pool. They were softly talking to each other, sipping wine. Her sparkling eyes looked up at him, dancing as she mentioned something about their wedding.

It was the perfect ending to their big day.

And there, on the other side of the pool, someone captured the exact moment Dee threw her head back in laughter because of something he said.

Two months later, it was the picture that he hung in the middle of their living room.


End file.
